Jericho Wells
by jane0904
Summary: Next in the Mal/Freya 'verse after KITH & KIN and RIPPLES.  Kaylee needs a new part, Mal needs a job, and someone on Serenity gets involved in politics ... Read, enjoy, and review - and sorry for the wait!  Last chapter now up - but there's more to come!
1. Chapter 1

**Your Vote Counts!**

In this election year, the Allied Planets want to know what _you_ think. On 1st June you will be able to make your views known by voting for one of the officially sanctioned candidates standing for Parliament. They will represent you at the highest level.

There will also be the opportunity to vote for other more local positions, to give you the chance to influence how your planet is run. Local candidates will be holding meetings and you will be able to put any questions to them that you wish (submitted in advance at the relevant Election office at least twenty-one days in advance).

Your election booth will be open from 6.00 am until 11.00 pm, and full instructions on how to vote will be depicted inside.

Good luck!

_Issued by the Union of Allied Planets. Voting is mandatory._

* * *

A long, drawn-out grind, followed by a sort of twanging sound, then something that appeared to be, at least to most ears, like Vera letting off two full loads. The cacophony filled the Firefly for a moment, then everything went unnaturally quiet.

Almost. Mal swore as he climbed off his bed. "Doc says I gotta take some rest every day on account of my little problem, and then there's something sounds like my boat's coming to pieces." He grabbed his shirt and glanced at Frey's amused face smiling up at him from the pillow – well, he was feeling much better – and climbed up the ladder to the corridor above, finding his mechanic waddling towards him. "Kaylee, what the _tyen shiao duh_ was that?" he demanded, putting his arms into his sleeves but neglecting to button.

"Nothing to worry about, Cap."

"You know, I really hate it when you say that. So how come we ain't moving?"

"Technically, we are, 'cause our momentum –"

"Kaylee."

"Well, you remember that secondary grav boot Bester said was shot?" She looked expectantly into his blue eyes.

How could he ever forget the day he picked up the best mechanic in the 'verse? And got rid of the worst. "Yeah. But it wasn't."

"Well, it is now. Gonna need a new one."

"My boat gonna explode?" He saw her eyes drift towards the still-red scar in the centre of his chest, and hastily did up his shirt.

"Nope. Least, not yet. I can coddle her along on the primary, but we need both."

"And you can't fix it?"

"Not this time. We need a replacement, and pretty quick."

"How quick?"

"Coupla days. Max."

"Then we explode?"

"Not necessarily. But we'll be dead in the water, and if we try to go anywhere –"

"We could go out with a bang, yeah, I get the picture. How much?" He was mentally going through the savings.

She shrugged expressively. "Not sure. Maybe we can get a secondhand one as good. The old one wasn't straight out the factory, that's for sure."

He nodded grimly and glanced up at the bridge, where Hank and Zoe were standing at the top of the stairs, having heard the commotion and the voices after. "Nearest landfall with a decent chance of supply."

Hank considered a moment. "Jericho," he finally said. "There's a dozen towns, but the main one's called Jericho Wells, on account of the water they found deep underground. I've been there once, and there's a pretty good scrapyard by the main dock."

"How far?"

"Five hours at burn."

Kaylee took an ungainly step forward. "Can't go to burn," she said apologetically. "Half power if we're lucky."

"Then a day," Hank revised.

"Lay in a course," Mal ordered.

"On it." His pilot disappeared back onto the bridge.

"You gonna need help keeping us going, _xiao mei-mei_?" Mal asked Kaylee, his hand on her arm.

She nodded. "I gotta watch the temperature gauges, and the elevation levels, and the designers of Serenity ain't exactly put them together. And it don't take into account the fact I need to pee all the time."

Mal winced slightly at her frankness, then looked at Freya, who had climbed the ladder after him. "Can you help?"

"Of course." She smiled. "I can do whatever Kaylee tells me to. And _you_ can get back to that rest you were supposed to be having." She grinned at the mechanic then meandered towards the engine room, stopping en route to pick up one of the sugar sticks from the pot on the kitchen counter and sucking it thoughtfully.

"What kinda rest is that, Cap?" Kaylee asked, her eyes shining with mischief.

"The kind I ain't gonna get without Freya next to me," he said bluntly, glaring at her.

"That's sweet," Kaylee beamed.

"You gonna be able to get her going again?" At Kaylee's delighted look he expanded, "Serenity, I mean, as you well know."

"Sure. Quicker'n a wink. The engine shut down when the grav boot went … it's something I been working on, trying to limit any damage if we get hit by an EMP again, but as long as I'm gentle with her, we should be shiny."

"Well, good. But how come this keeps happening?" Mal demanded.

"'Cause we're always playing catch-up, Cap," Kaylee explained, as patiently as she could.

"That doesn't –"

"And you don't spend money on a new part when a secondhand'll do."

"I spend what I can!"

"Well, sometimes it ain't enough."

He took a deep breath, trying one of the calming exercises Freya had taught him, not wanting to put any more strain on his heart than he needed. "Kaylee, it ain't like I do this on purpose. If I had more money, I'd make Serenity as spick as I could."

"Freya might have … you know … being a Rostov n'all …"

"No, she ain't! She's a Reynolds. Now and always. And no matter how much I get on okay with her bro, I ain't being beholden to him or anyone. And neither is she. What if it gets back to the Alliance somehow? And I don't just mean it might put _her_ in danger, but your Simon, River, not to mention Bethie and … No, Kaylee. We'll make do. We always have. If it comes to it, we'll tighten our belts a bit, maybe look for some nice crime needs doing. But I ain't begging for hand-outs."

"Then what about Dillon? Cap, I ain't asking for me, but there's stuff needs doing, and if we don't have the coin –"

"We've got coin, Kaylee." He knew he sounded harsher than he intended, interrupting her like he had, but he was getting pretty sick of bits falling off his boat all the time. "We got a good deal on that stuff we had stashed at the Arachnids, your other half got his scanner … we got coin, _mei-mei _. We don't need to go cap in hand to anyone."

She nodded. She knew what he was saying, and agreed with it, but it was hard sometimes to make things last, and it would be nice, just sometimes, to have a brand new, still shiny-off-the-shelf part or two. "Okay."

Mal felt guilty, as he always did, because her sunshine was diminished slightly. "Look, I'll think on it, okay? Maybe Dillon can put us in the way of some cheap parts." At her surprised and excited look he added quickly, "Not saying he can, and I'm meaning to pay for 'em. Well, mostly, anyway. But there might be a way we can get you some spares."

Her grin was sunlight personified. "_Xie-xie_, Captain!" She kissed his cheek and fairly skipped down the steps and back through the kitchen, or at least as much as an eight month pregnant woman could skip. Which, because it was Kaylee, was pretty well.

He heard Zoe's footfalls behind him as she walked down from the bridge. "Do we have enough cash on hand?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"We got some. Maybe not as much as I'd like, but we might be able to make a deal with the scrapyard."

"And what were you planning on selling, sir?"

He turned towards her, pushing his shirt into his pants. "Not exactly selling. More like … bartering."

Her eyebrow raised. "And that's better … how?"

"We've got all that crap in the hold from the last job you and Jayne pulled. It's not doing much else but cluttering up my ship, and nobody seems inclined to buy it. But maybe we can swap it for stuff we need."

"And if we can't?"

"You ever been to Jericho, Zoe?" Mal asked, apparently changing the subject.

"No, sir. I haven't." She waited, knowing he had more to say.

"Me neither. Not likely to be going back."

"Probably not, sir."

"You're calling me 'sir' a lot," he pointed out.

"Just wondering what's brewing in that brain of yours. Sir."

"I've heard tell Jericho Wells is pretty wealthy. For a place this far out, at least. Which means they have banks. And banks have vaults."

"So you're planning to rob the place."

"Thinking on it, Zoe. Thinking on it." He smiled, then headed for the kitchen to pour himself a mug of what was currently passing for coffee.

His first mate watched him, her lips pursed thoughtfully.

* * *

"It ain't gonna be hard," Kaylee said, easing her back slightly after having to lean over various things to get Serenity's heart turning again, which it was now doing. Nearing the end of her pregnancy meant she was aching pretty much all the time, and what with the pressure on her bladder, she didn't like being in any one position for too long.

"Sit," Freya ordered. "You can point and yell at me just as easily from your hammock."

Kaylee grinned, and lowered herself carefully onto the striped fabric. "Don't know how this ain't split, the amount of weight I've put on."

"That's because you're carrying a boy," Freya said, smiling herself. "Boys are greedy."

"Is that it? Was it heavier carrying Ethan than Jesse?" She picked up a wrench that had been on the hammock and had slid half under her as she sat down.

Freya thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, no. So I suppose I'm making a generalisation. The truth is, I put on such a huge amount of weight that I couldn't sit on Mal's lap from about the third month."

"Now I know that ain't the truth." Kaylee giggled. "Came across you on the bridge about six months in carrying Ethan, and it weren't the Cap's lap you were sitting on."

Freya turned an interesting shade of pale pink, and wondered if she'd ever get over her prudish streak. Probably not. "Anyway, which is the grav boot?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"Oh. Um, it's …" Kaylee pointed with the wrench. "That. Underneath. Just in front of the port pin lock."

"Kaylee, honey, I don't know what that is either."

"Right hand side. Sorta cylindrical."

Freya bent down and peered into Serenity's working parts. "Ah. Yes, I think I see it." She looked up. "What does it do?"

"It supports the …" Kaylee shook her head. "Well, it ain't doing nothing at the moment, but … you sure you wanna know?"

"No, not really. I'm much more of the 'you tell me what to do and I'll do it' sort of assistant. Absolutely no point in explaining to me why something works."

"Yeah."

"Except when it doesn't."

"Um, no."

Freya looked at Kaylee, but the young woman wouldn't meet her eyes. Something else was going on here, and as much as she felt the urge, she wasn't going to look.

That didn't mean she couldn't ask, though.

"So. Kaylee. Want to tell me the real reason the grav boot gave up right now?"

Kaylee gave a start, dropping her wrench with a clang onto the floor. "Real reason?" she asked.

Freya smiled and picked up the tool, placing it on the workbench. "Yes. The real reason."

Kaylee's eyes dropped to her swollen stomach, and she put her hands around it protectively. "Did I say there was another reason? 'Sides the one I gave?"

"Kaylee. Tell me. I won't be mad. Mal wouldn't, either, but … you have to tell someone."

For a long moment Kaylee didn't answer, then she sighed, heavily and with extreme meaning. "I … well …"

"Come on," Freya said, sitting down on the swinging hammock and slipping her arm around the mechanic's shoulders. "'Fess up."

"It might have something to do with me being pregnant n'all," Kaylee finally murmured.

"What kind of something?"

Kaylee looked up. "Well, see, I've been working on something might be just the answer to what Mal asked me, as in how to make Serenity EMP-proof."

"That's a good idea, but it still doesn't explain –"

"I've been playing around with different kindsa shielding. I built a little engine, just a small one, mainly just sensors my girl let me have, and I made a little EMP generator, bit like a gun. Just for testing." She seemed disinclined to go on.

"And?"

"Well, I …" She took a deep breath. "I had some flux in a jar on top of my workbench, heating through so I could do a little sealing when I'd finished," she said quickly, as if she was going to swallow the words otherwise. "And I was just about to try out this new shielding matrix and I turned, my belly caught the flux, I stepped back to avoid being burned by it as it fell, the EMP gun was in my hand, I squeezed, and …" She stopped.

"And the pulse hit the grav boot, knocking it out."

"It's only localised," Kaylee explained quickly. "I kept the frequency low so's it wouldn't damage anything else, but I guess the grav boot wasn't exactly in the best of health and it … died."

"And you really can't fix it."

"Frey, I fixed it four times already. I think it was seriously sick."

Freya nodded. "Did you burn yourself?"

"Nah," Kaylee said, trying to see past her belly to her feet. "I think I might've gotten a hole in my coveralls, but that's about it."

"Good. Can't have you getting hurt." She squeezed her arm, letting Kaylee know it was all right. "But from now on, I think you'd better put off your experiments until you've given birth."

"But Mal said –"

"I don't care what Mal said. If he complains, send him to me."

"Yeah, but he might like that."

Freya smiled, knowing Kaylee was beginning to cheer up again. "I dare say he would. But we can't have you putting yourself in the way of things for the time being. River and I will take over, and you can supervise."

"But –"

"No buts, Kaylee. You've only got a few weeks to go, and we all know second babies can decide to put in an early appearance. Now Mal promised to get you to Phoros to be with your folks when your time's due, but he won't want you turning up with holes burned in you. Your coveralls we can mend – you're not quite so easy."

"Simon's a good doctor," Kaylee pointed out.

"Oh, I know that. One of the best. But let's not put it to the test too often, shall we?"

Kaylee gazed at her friend, and nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Good girl." Freya got up. "Right. What are these gauges I need to keep an eye on?"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Extract from the Union of Allied Planets Rules for Parliamentary Elections:  
**_**20 - 19 - 25 3.5b**

In order to ensure the full democratic process, all persons in residence between the time of formal notice of election to the date of ballot shall, within the discretion of the election office and notwithstanding any rank or privilege thereof, be considered under the jurisdiction of the returning officer and shall present themselves at a time and date as decided by the relevant parliamentary official, with full identity and other necessary documentation, to participate in or otherwise take advantage of the continuity of voting. Failure to do so will incur penalties, consequences and other corollaries as detailed in Section 22, Sub-Section 7, paragraphs 14 to 84. This obligation and requirement is more fully set out in Section 20, Sub-Section 19, paragraph 26.

* * *

"Kaylee, Simon wants you in the infirmary." River stepped into the engine room, her bare feet only whispering on the metal floor.

"Can't," the young mechanic said, her feet sticking out from under the engine. "Too much to do."

River glanced at Freya, swinging gently in the hammock.

"She was in here when I arrived this morning." The older woman shook her head. "She told me it wasn't necessary, but I think she might have spent the night."

"Had to. Have to make sure we get to Jericho in one piece." Kaylee's feet twitched. "Ain't like it's the first time I've done it."

"Not pregnant," Freya pointed out. "And apparently it takes more time to explain to me what to do than to do it herself. I'm considering getting Mal to remonstrate with her."

"Won't do no good," Kaylee said, her voice slightly muffled. "I know what my girl needs, and it's just simpler to get it done while I can."

"And what about your boy?" River asked.

"What? What boy?"

"Your son."

There was a moment's silence, then Kaylee slid out, the wheels on her trolley squealing. Her hand automatically went to her belly, the other clutching a sealant gun. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sharp objects," River said. "Heat. Radiation."

"There ain't no radiation in here!" Kaylee looked most affronted.

"Might be. And that could affect him." River pointed towards Kaylee's stomach.

"That ain't fair."

"Fair, no. True, yes."

Freya got up from the hammock and went down onto her heels. "Kaylee, honey, you know the drill. We do the work, you do the supervising. That way Serenity gets to where she's going, and Mal doesn't have another heart attack."

Kaylee glared at her. "That's low."

"Yes, it is. And I'll do anything and say anything to get you to understand, no matter how low it is." With River's help they got Kaylee to her feet. "Is it fixed?" she asked, nodding towards the sealant.

"Yeah. Just a little fluid leak, and … yeah, it's fixed."

"Then that's it. You don't do a thing now until after that baby's born."

"And the grav boot? When we get a new one? What then? You gonna put it in?" Kaylee's sunshine was hidden under a wave of belligerence, coupled with just a hint of self-righteous indignation.

"No, I will," River said. "The auxiliary coupler is linked to the primary O-ring, which in turn –"

Kaylee held up a hand. "You reading me?"

"A little."

The young woman looked ready to argue, but in the end her shoulders slumped. "I just … I don't wanna feel useless," she muttered. She laid her hand on the engine housing. "This is my girl. No matter the papers say she belongs to the Cap, she's mine. Put so much of me into her, sometimes I ain't sure where I stop and she starts."

"She sings when you touch her," River said softly.

"That's right," Kaylee said, glad she understood. "And if I can't do for her, get her back up to being the best gorram engine she can be … well, I ain't good for anything."

Freya put her arm around her shoulders. "Kaylee, you're the heart of this boat. And you know it. I think you're just a bit scared."

"No, I ain't."

"I was. With both Ethan and Jesse. Those last few weeks, when Mal was rushing around, trying to get everything right, doing that nesting thing he does …"

Kaylee giggled. "Does not."

Freya glanced at River, who smiled. "Kaylee, it's been a few years since Bethie was born. And you had a tough time of it, what with … well, everything." She didn't want to remind the other woman too much of when they thought Simon was lost to them, River too, and the Caesarean that had been necessary to save both mother and child. "But we're here. Your Ma is going to hold your hand when your son's born, and your father is going to pass around the cigars."

"Like Jayne did," River put in.

"Exactly." Freya squeezed. "It's okay to be scared. It's natural. But it doesn't mean that you can't take things easy for a while. _Dong mah_?"

Kaylee sighed heavily. "I guess."

"And you can start by going and seeing your husband."

"Did he say why he wanted me?" Kaylee asked River.

"Check-up." River leaned down until she could look under the engine housing, her hair falling forwards and obscuring her face. "He wants to play with his new scanner."

* * *

"There." Simon touched the screen. "I can't believe this is so clear."

Kaylee, laying on her back on the medbed, was craning her neck to see. "Is he okay?" she asked.

"He's perfect. I can count his toes, his fingers, even see he has a mass of hair."

"Simon, I can't …" She wriggled, and the image blurred.

"Lay still."

"I want to see."

"Then …" Simon picked up his portable scanner, plugging in the adaptor River had put together. "Here." He held it for her, the image duplicated on its small screen.

"Oh." Kaylee stared at her son. "He's …"

"Perfect," Simon repeated.

"That he is." She giggled. "You can see he's a boy."

"And this is just a passive scan. If I wanted, I could change the focus and look right inside him."

"That wouldn't hurt him, would it?" Kaylee asked, concerned.

"I wouldn't, just in case. But it means that, if I was worried about anything, I could see it, possibly fix it even before he was born."

Kaylee's eyes were wide. "You mean you could go in and operate?"

"If needed. Not that I would if at all possible. I couldn't on Ethan after the Minuet's, and our … our son is even smaller at the moment."

Reaching out a hand to him, feeling him grasp it tightly, she smiled. "Sounds good, doesn't it? Our son."

"It does."

"Never thought we'd be saying that. I mean, I'm so happy we've got Bethie, and Hope, but … does it make me a bad Momma that I want this little boy too?"

"Only if it makes me a bad father." Simon grinned down at her, so much more relaxed and open from the man who had first stepped on board this Firefly. "And the girls understand."

"I think they do." Kaylee giggled again.

"What? What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, just when Jesse was born. And Ethan thinking Mal and Frey wouldn't want him now."

"That won't happen," Simon promised. "Bethie and Hope are both looking forward to having a little brother."

"Someone to boss around."

"Absolutely."

Kaylee took one last look at their son, then struggled to sit up. Simon quickly moved the scanner out of the way. "Well, I gotta get back to the engine room. Ain't no telling what those two've done whilst I've been gone."

"And are you being sensible?" Simon asked, helping her to stand then pulling her towards him, pressing as much of himself against her as he could.

"I guess."

"Kaylee."

"Well, maybe not sensible," she had to admit. "Least, not 'til now. But I will be, I promise."

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't pursue it any further. He knew how much she wanted this baby, and she wasn't going to do anything to jeopardise that. Even if it took someone else pointing out the potential dangers. "Good." He kissed the tip of her nose, tasting engine grease. "And have you thought any more about our son's name?"

She gazed at him for such a long time that he started to get uncomfortable, then she said, "Yep, I have. And I think you're right."

He exhaled, only then realising he'd been holding his breath. "Thank you."

"No, don't. It's something I shoulda suggested myself, and … I know he'd like it."

"Thank you anyway. For being Kaylee."

She laughed, and squirmed slightly in his embrace. "Ain't nothing."

"Yes, it is."

He kissed her properly this time, and although she knew she could stay like that forever, there were things needed doing.

"I gotta go," she said regretfully, slipping out from his arms and heading for the door.

"I think Bethie's up there with them," Simon added. "She said something about telling them what to do."

Kaylee's eyebrows raised. "Then I think I'd better get back quick. 'Fore there's mutiny."

Simon chuckled and watched his wife move faster than he could have imagined in her condition, her sandals flapping up the stairs towards her kingdom.

* * *

As they watched Jericho grow fat through the bridge window Zoe studied her captain out of the corner of her eye. He was far too relaxed, standing with his thumbs hitched into his suspenders, a slight smile on his face.

"Have you come up with a plan, sir?" she asked eventually, turning to face him.

"A plan?"

"Yes, sir. A plan. For this, some might say, ill-advised attempt to rob one of Jericho Wells' banks."

"Ill-advised. Huh."

"Yes, sir."

He gave a quiet laugh. "Me and Frey were thinking about it last night, that's for sure. Well, for a little while, anyway."

She ignored the last part. "And did you come to any conclusion?"

"A few." He grinned. "Let's just see how much Kaylee wants us to spend first, shall we? 'Cause I'm not so set on the prospect if we don't have to."

"That's good to know, sir."

Hank glanced up. "Better not mention stealing anything for a while," he advised. "Looks like Port Control are calling." He lifted down the handset. "This is the Firefly transport Serenity, requesting landing clearance for Jericho Wells."

A wave of static preceded a voice, sounding more than a little bored. _"Firefly Serenity, stand by."_ There was maybe thirty seconds of silence, then, _"Firefly Serenity. What is the nature of your business on Jericho?"_

Hank glanced at Mal, and had to bite his tongue to hold back the impulse to say 'thieving, corruption and general debauchery'. "Port Control, we need supplies, that's all. Not looking for work at this time."

"_Firefly Serenity, stand by."_

"They seem … officious," Zoe commented.

"Jericho supported Unification," Mal said quietly. "I don't think there was one man in the Independent army came from there. They just like doing it by the book." Still, he could feel tension across his shoulders. If they couldn't land at Jericho Wells, he wasn't sure where he was going to get the replacement grav boot from. He might have to do as Kaylee had suggested and contact Dillon, although how they'd get it to –

The com chirped again. _"Firefly Serenity, you are cleared to land at Jericho Wells. Be advised that you may be inspected for any contraband or other illegal goods at any time. Landing co-ordinates are being transmitted."_

"Thank you, Port Control, received" Hank said. "And we're all law-abiding here." He hung the handset back up, quite difficult with his fingers crossed. He grinned at Zoe, who only raised one eyebrow.

"Get us down, Hank," Mal said, rotating his shoulders a little.

"No problem."

They dropped into Jericho's atmosphere, the flames outside extinguished as quickly as they'd arrived, and they were surrounded by a rich blue sky.

"Hank, is it me, or is there nothing in the air?" Mal asked slowly as his ship flew smoothly towards the dock.

The pilot checked his scanners. "Almost. Just a couple of shuttles out on the edge of town, but nothing bigger."

"Like to hazard a guess as to why?"

"Not really." Hank adjusted their heading slightly. "I suppose there are times when nothing flies. It's just … I ain't never seen one."

Port Control's voice came back over the com. _"Firefly Serenity, you are on final approach. Your navigation beacon is locked onto berth five."_

Zoe stirred uneasily. "Sir, I don't have a very good feeling about this."

He glanced sharply at her. "In what way?"

"Not sure. Just … like Verity."

Verity. A small town on a moon nobody had heard of, and a place he'd rather forget, seeing as he hadn't listened to his corporal that time, and nearly ended up dead, shrapnel peppering his back. It had become a byword for Zoe's instincts, and since then he tended to take notice.

"Trouble is, it ain't like we exactly have any other options," he said slowly.

"I know."

Serenity was now low enough to see the expanse of buildings, older ones around the dock, but taller and more expensive the further out. One or two of them appeared to exceed a dozen stories. And everywhere there was green, from trees to gardens, parks and open spaces.

Hank brought the ship down, her landing gear extending to take her weight, and she touched earth with barely a bump.

"_Firefly Serenity, your Cortex link has been updated. Welcome to Jericho._" Port Control signed off.

Mal peered out of the bridge window. "We landed in the middle of a festival or something?" he asked, seeing banners fluttering in every direction.

"What?" Hank stared out, then his eyes darted to the Cortex screen. "No, no, no, no …" He started flicking switches.

"What?" Mal was immediately on the alert. "What is it?"

For a moment the pilot didn't answer, then he slammed his closed fist down onto the console, causing minute flecks of paint to shiver to the deck. "_Gou niang yang de!_"

"Hank, you answer me or I'll find me a new flyboy."

Hank pointed to the rotating green image on the screen. "We're landlocked."

"What?" Mal's eyes widened in shock, then leaned over, trying buttons himself. "What the hell for? We ain't even done anything yet!"

"The date." Hank was gesturing towards the Cortex. "It's the gorram date."

Mal took a deep breath, pushed down on the impulse to pummel the man into the ground, and said, in an even tone that suggested mayhem was still an option, "What about the date?"

Hank turned in his chair, looking up at his wife and his captain. "We're not going anywhere. Not for six days."

"You care to explain?"

The pilot gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the banners flying from every tall building, every flagpole, every spire on every church. "Elections."

"What?" Now there was more than mayhem on the horizon. Possibly even murder. "And you didn't think to let us know?"

"I didn't realise," Hank explained. "Not 'til we touched down." He sat back, dejectedly. "I'm sorry."

"What's going on?" Simon asked, stepping onto the bridge having heard the commotion.

"We have a problem," Mal said, crossing his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

"Would you mind telling us what the problem is?" Simon asked, sitting next to Kaylee at the big dining table, the rest of the crew ranged around. Only the children were absent, sitting in Bethie's room playing quietly, although it was a fair bet the little girl was listening in to the conversation anyway. He looked up at Mal, standing at the head. "Particularly since we haven't even set foot off the ship yet."

"Name, number and pack drill," River murmured, and Jayne took her hand, squeezing gently.

"It's election time," Hank explained quickly.

"So?" Simon hadn't heard his sister.

"Didn't you ever vote?" Mal asked, crossing his arms.

"Of course. Always. Although I think it was only twice, before I tried to find River."

"Tap you on the shoulder, tell you where to sign," River singsonged.

Her brother glanced at her. "Are you okay, _mei-mei_?"

"Try to run away, it's the end of the line."

Simon went to rise. "Maybe I should go and get -"

"It ain't nothing for you to worry about," Jayne rumbled. "Just a bad day. She ain't gonna go crazy and kill everyone. Well, no crazier than she already is."

River looked at him gratefully, aware right now that most of the words she wanted to say would come out jumbled, full of other meanings, and that just occasionally it still unsettled the rest of the crew. Knowing that her husband understood and could talk for her made it easier to accept, and, in accepting, the disorder in her mind would ease quicker.

"If you're sure …" Simon wasn't quite convinced. It might have been a good long while since he'd medicated River, but he was still a doctor, and she was still his sister, and sometimes he felt he should be able to do something.

"Yep, I'm sure." It was clear in his tone that he wasn't going to let anyone stick his wife with needles, not unless it was entirely necessary. And even then he'd make a fuss about it, and everyone knew his kind of fuss tended to end up with other folks needing Simon's skills, awkward if it was the good doctor himself who was the one lying bleeding on the medbed.

"Okay." Simon settled back down, and felt Kaylee tangle her fingers in his.

"Just for that you get a go with the feather and the strawberry powder," she whispered in his ear, so proud of her man for being able to acknowledge Jayne's rights as husband and father, even though it was something he still found difficult.

He blushed.

Mal raised one eyebrow. "As fun as this is to watch, it ain't exactly solving our problem."

Simon coughed and turned back, looking up expectantly. "Elections. Yes."

"You know voting is supposed to mandatory."

"Of course." He shrugged slightly. "I remember back at MedAcad we used to discuss the various candidates, who we thought would be the best man for the job, then we'd all go to the voting station together. It was quite a party." He brought his mind back from the past. "But out here, I wouldn't have thought -"

"And you'd be right," Mal interrupted. "Most places, 'specially those as didn't support Unification, don't exactly play to policy. I guess we've been lucky, and never had to make planetfall around that time, and for the most part made pretty damn sure we didn't, but it looks like our luck just ran out."

"Jericho's a stickler for the rules," Hank added. "Most planets are more lenient over the regulations, and don't make you vote if you're not a resident, but this place … if you even touch the dirt in the week before the election, they make you stay and make you vote, whether you want to or not."

"Then I don't see the problem. We vote. Admittedly we'll know nothing about the candidates, but I doubt we'd affect the results that much."

"It's not as easy as that." Freya leaned forward.

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because they check our IDent cards at the voting office. And if you don't have one, they check your fingerprints, retinal scan, DNA."

"What my wife is trying to say," Mal added, "is that you and River are still tagged as fugitives. Those warrants may be old, but a place like this … they'd lock you up before you could wink and put a call into the Alliance."

Simon felt a frisson of fear run down his spine. "Then we hide. It's only for a few days. If River and I don't leave, aren't seen by anyone outside the ship, then we should be fine. As soon as we're … what? What is it?" He'd seen the look Hank and the captain had exchanged.

"Doc, I love how innocent you are," the pilot said, shaking his head. "They'll've scanned us by now, probably the moment we touched down. They know exactly how many people are on board, down to the little one that isn't even born yet."

Simon could see Kaylee wrapping her arms around her belly even as the fear turned to ice. "So what do we do?" he asked.

"We make a plan," Mal said. He looked at his mechanic. "_Mei-mei_, how long to put that part in once we get it?"

"Not long. Maybe a coupla hours. But that's just to do the replacement. There's a whole load of other adjustments needed, since we been flying on the primary, and that's gonna take a lot longer." She sighed heavily, adding regretfully, "And I ain't yet figured a way to lift a landlock."

"So running ain't an option."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Yes, it is." She sniffed. "This is _all_ my fault." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. "If'n I'd been paying attention more, if I hadn't been fooling around with stuff, this wouldn't've happened."

"Now you know that ain't the truth," Mal said. "I asked you to."

Hank raised his eyebrows at his wife in query, but she shook her head. No-one else seemed to know what this particular conversation was about. Except perhaps two particular Readers.

Kaylee wasn't surprised that Freya had told Mal what had happened, but she was surprised that he didn't appear to be angry. "Yeah, but everyone kept telling me I should be taking more care. And I didn't listen."

"No, you didn't. But it ain't something we can go back and change, so we live with it and move on." His blue eyes were gentle. "Kaylee, we'll figure a way round this."

She nodded, even though she didn't feel particularly reassured. All she could see at the moment, in her mind's eye, was Simon being hauled on board an Alliance ship and taken away from her, just as she went into labour.

"Won't happen," River said softly. "Won't let it."

Kaylee lifted her eyes to her sister-in-law, seeing the certainty on her face.

"Maybe we should just go take over Port Control," Jayne suggested. "Kaylee gets her part, then we go in, all guns blazing, make 'em lift the lock."

Zoe gazed at him. "And then what? Every Alliance ship within a parsec would be looking for us."

"Us?" he scoffed. "Ain't they got better things to do?"

"Not during the elections."

"Besides, it wouldn't work," Hank said. "You wouldn't get within ten feet of Port Control, not armed."

"What?"

"Because they'd arrest you. Or maybe just shoot you."

"Why?" The big man was suddenly on the defensive, fingering the gunbelt around his waist.

"There's a blanket order of no weapons allowed this week. Not a one. Not even a knife."

Jayne looked stricken. "I can't go out there without some kinda –"

"If it's a choice between walking free and getting bound, yes, you can." Mal was adamant. "No guns, knives or other implements of mayhem."

"Not even –"

"Not even. Whatever it was you were about to suggest." Mal looked at the man's broad chest. "Jayne, there's enough of you to intimidate anyone, as you well know. And those fists of yours can do enough damage to stop a small army."

"But I don't get why I can't carry Betsey."

Zoe spoke, her gaze not moving from the big ex-merc. "Because they're in the middle of an election. And Jericho Wells is very particular about weaponry around this time. After the incident." At Mal's raised eyebrow she went on, "Hank did some checking while you were calling everyone together."

Hank nodded. "Apparently a few years ago there was a local election, and someone didn't like the result, and they shot the newly elected dog catcher. Caused something of a riot. So they just don't let you carry at the moment."

"I'm gonna feel naked," Jayne grumbled.

"Then stay onboard. We don't want to be having to rescue you too," Mal said firmly.

"Ain't like I was gonna shoot anyone or nothing."

"Jayne."

"Yeah, sure, fine. I'll … I'll be good," he said with as much sullenness as he could manage.

Mal knew he was contemplating which of the smaller guns he could hide about his person, but decided he was better off not asking. "Fine. Then we need to –"

"Uncle Mal?" All eyes turned to Bethie standing in the far doorway, her hands clasped tightly behind her back.

"Ain't you supposed to be downstairs looking after the rest of the kids?" Mal asked.

The little girl shrugged. "There's someone outside, and they want to speak to you."

Mal and Freya exchanged a glance, and she opened her mind a little.

"Bethie's right," she said. "And he's got a list."

* * *

Mal pulled the outer airlock door open, letting in the fresh air of Jericho. For a moment he wondered how they'd managed to get the dock air to taste so sweet, since the scent of most ports was a mixture of fuel, metal and body odour, combined with a thousand other perfumes, each worse that the last, but his contemplation was put on the back burner at the sight of the man in front of him.

Smallish, maybe five foot and a half, his suit was steel grey with knife-edged pleats down the pants. The shirt showing above the collarless jacket was so white it was almost blinding, and obviously freshly laundered, buttoned up to the neck. His head, almost completely devoid of hair, shone in the sunlight, and he had a look on his face that said exactly what he was.

Official. Bureaucrat. A speck of grit in the wheels of liberty.

He even had a clipboard.

"Morning," Mal said, putting on the slow smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"It's 12:37," the man said, consulting his watch.

"Then … afternoon."

"My name is Jennings. I work for the election office here on Jericho and I will be taking a census of the people on board this vessel." He glanced down at his clipboard. "And you are?"

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds. This is my boat, bought and paid for."

Jennings made a notation against one of the boxes. "Our scans indicate you have eight adults on board, as well as six children. Is that correct?"

"Well, six and a half, seeing as my mechanic is about to drop another pup." He watched the man make a meticulous note.

"Is that likely to happen whilst you are in port?"

"Hope not."

"And their names?"

"Well, we got me, my wife Freya, then there's my pilot Hank Mills and his wife Zoe, then -"

"Slower, please."

Mal did as he was asked, Jennings writing the names in precise, exceptionally legible script. "Then we've got my medic, name of Simon Frye and his wife Kaylee, and finally River Cobb and her husband Jayne."

Jennings looked up, his pen pausing. "Jayne?"

"Long story. And I ain't even sure I've heard it all."

Jennings nodded, and annotated the page. "And what does he do?"

"Public relations."

"And the children?"

Mal hitched his thumbs into his waistband. "Now, as far as I know, there ain't a one of 'em old enough to vote, so why do you need that information?"

"As I said, I'm taking the census. This information will be passed on to the relevant office on Osiris, and the population records updated."

"Six kids. That's all you need to know."

Jennings opened his mouth to argue, but saw the look on Mal's face. "Very well. I suppose that will do. For the moment."

"We got a dog and a cat too, and the odd spider or three, considering the cobwebs I've seen around. You need to know about them as well?"

"I am only doing my job, Captain Reynolds."

"And I'm sure you do it real well."

"I will, of course, need to see the adults' IDent cards."

"I'll make sure they have them when we go to vote."

"No. I mean now."

Mal's eyes narrowed. "I don't ever recall being asked to produce them beforehand."

"It's how we do things here on Jericho."

Mal wondered just how long it was going to take to get heartily sick and tired of the phrase 'here on Jericho'. Probably not long. "Well, Mr Jennings, that might take us a while. Seeing as truth to tell I'm not sure where mine is, and I know Frey's just as bad at keeping things in one place, so … how about you say you saw them, and we just show 'em at the election booth like we planned?"

Jennings shook his head. "That isn't possible. I have to see them before you can leave your ship." He waved the clipboard. "I need to make a note of the numbers."

"Why?"

"So we can confirm who you say you are on the day of the election." He sighed, as if the weight of Jericho was on his shoulders, and his alone. "You'd be amazed at the number of people who try and get away with claiming they're someone they're not."

"Really."

"Oh, yes. And the full weight of the law is brought down upon them." He made it sound like a sermon. "Nothing will be done unless you try and leave Jericho Wells, but I do need to see them."

"Shiny." Mal took a deep breath. "Well, it's a nice day, so you can take the weight off your feet while me and mine see if we can't find those cards." He stepped back inside. "Don't you be going anywhere." The door closed with a loud metallic thud, and he turned to look on his crew. "Yeah, that went well."

"Now what?" Simon asked, holding up his IDent. "This card might look okay, but if he runs the number …"

"Dillon paid good cashey-money for that, Doc," Mal assured him. "That and your sister's. They'll pass first view, don't you worry."

"I just think it's nice you wanted your last name to be Frye," Kaylee said, leaning against him. "Even though I've always loved being Mrs Dr Tam."

"I didn't want it to be Mara. Not anymore." He patted her hand. "But I'll always be Simon Tam for you."

"S'real nice." Her eyes promised more than just the feather.

"Simon's right, though," Freya put in. "I wouldn't put it past Jennings out there to run all our numbers, just because he can."

"And even if he don't, we're still deep in it when it comes to voting day," Jayne said. "And I ain't letting anything happen to River."

"I'm not letting anything happen to anyone," Mal avowed.

"But I still got to get to that yard," Kaylee said. "If I don't get that part, this is something of a useless conversation, don't you think?"

Zoe nodded. "Then we have to think of a plan." She turned to look at Mal. "Sir?"

"I'm pondering." Mal felt a tugging at his pants leg, and looked down.

Somehow Ethan had managed to sneak up on them from the cluster of children in the entrance to the common area, and now he was gazing at his father. "Daddy, I want to help."

Mal reached down and picked up his son, settling him onto his hip and wondering at the back of his mind how much longer he was going to be able to do that, considering how fast the little boy was growing. "Not at all sure you can," he said, looking into familiar blue eyes.

"Want to."

"You know what's going on?" Mal asked, not angry, just resigned.

"Bethie was peeking," Ethan admitted. "She told," he added in a stage whisper so loud that the little girl bridled with indignation at being ratted out.

The corner of Mal's mouth twitched. "That young lady should know better."

"But I want to help."

"Sir." Zoe stepped closer. "I think I have an idea."

* * *

The ramp lowered, and for one moment Mal felt the hope leap within him that maybe Jennings had got fed up and gone away, but the officious little man appeared around the corner of the Firefly.

"Did you know your mandatory registration markings are almost illegible?" Jennings said, pointing upwards with his pen.

"Really. Have to do something about that," Mal said, stepping down onto Jericho soil. He held out his IDent card. "Here you go."

Jennings almost smiled, taking the card and running it through the small reader attached to his clipboard. "Thank you, Captain." He handed it back. "And the others?"

"Found it!" Hank shouted from inside, jogging down the ramp. "It was under my manuscript." He waved it in the air. "I've been writing this tome for a long while now," he explained to Jennings. "And it won't be long before this says 'Best Selling Author' rather than pilot. Of course, I'll still fly just to keep my hand in, but it'll be my boat, not someone else's."

Jennings reached for the card but it was jerked out of his fingers.

"Or maybe I'll buy this one," Hank went on. "She's a good old crate, and it'd only take someone spending some credits on her to make her even better." He ignored the look he was getting from Mal.

"Mr …" Jennings consulted his board. "… Mills? Can I have your card, please?"

Hank opened his eyes wider, as if surprised he was still holding it. "Oh, sorry." He let the little man take it.

"And she ain't a crate," Kaylee added, waddling outside and thumping him on the arm. "She's Serenity."

"I know, I know!" He rubbed his bicep. "Do you have to get quite so physical?"

"Yes." She smiled at Jennings. "I'm Kaylee, and here's my card." She held it under his nose.

"Just a moment." The man looked like he was about to drop things.

"And mine." Zoe strode down the ramp, her own card held out. "Although I still don't see why you need to check them now." She tossed it onto the clipboard.

"Please, please, one at a time!" Jennings implored. "And as I was explaining to your husband, we –"

"You were?" Hank asked. "Did you explain something to me?"

"No. To him." Jennings pointed at Mal and looked flustered. "Aren't you Mrs Reynolds?" he asked Zoe.

"Me? Marry him?" Zoe chuckled. "Not if my life depended on it."

"And I kept you alive all these years," Mal said, shaking his head.

"I thought it was the other way around, sir."

"I'm Mrs Reynolds." Freya stepped out into the sunshine, with River, Simon and Jayne at her back. "And I don't think I'd wish Mal on anyone else."

"That hurts, you know that, don't you?" Mal said.

"Going to play, Daddy!" Ethan yelled, darting out between them and pounding along the road, his little legs almost a blur.

"Ethan!" Mal yelled. "You get back here right now!" But his son took no notice.

"We'll get him, Mal," Jayne said, and starting to run, River at his heels, Simon keeping pace.

"Kaylee, stay here," Freya ordered, her feet already moving. "If he comes back, keep a hold of him." She followed the others.

"Hank, go the other way, I'll make sure he doesn't double back on us," Zoe said, heading around the side of the Firefly.

"Got it." The pilot was off, kicking up tiny puffs of dust.

"Gorramit," Mal muttered, almost to himself. "The last time he did this it was suppertime before we found him, and that was only because he was getting hungry." He picked up the cards from Jennings' clipboard. "Look, I have to go help. He's my kid, after all, least according to his mother. You just say you checked, and we're all fine and who we say we are. It's not like we're going any place, are we? What with the landlock, 'n' all."

"Well, I don't know …"

"And you wouldn't wanna have to let your superiors at the election office know you didn't manage to catch us all before we left the ship, do you?"

"No, I suppose I –"

Mal pressed home his advantage. "It's only a few days, then we'll be voting anyway, like the good Alliance citizens we are." He had to hold back the bile on saying the words, but managed to sound helpful and honest instead. He gave Jennings a gentle push in the small of his back. "We won't say anything."

Jennings looked agonised, but to his credit managed to pull himself together quickly. He put the top back on his pen and thrust it into his jacket pocket. "Captain Reynolds, you and your crew are required to present yourselves at the election booth on June 1st between the hours of 6.00 am and 11.00 pm, with all relevant documentation, in order to cast your vote. If you do not, you will be held accountable by law."

"Oh, we'll be there. Nothing my crew likes better than to show what they really feel about the Alliance."

For a moment Jennings paused, as if Mal's words and his meaning weren't quite the same, then he nodded. "Good." Taking a flyer from the board he held it out. "The candidates. You are at liberty to attend any of the meetings being held in the next few days, subject to all the rules and regulations appertaining thereto." Holding his clipboard in front of him like a shield he nodded first to Mal, then to Kaylee. "Sir. Ma'am." He marched off, his head high.

Kaylee waited until he was out of sight before exhaling loudly. "Can't believe we got away with that, Cap'n," she said, fanning her face.

Immediately Mal was next to her, helping her to sit down on the edge of the ramp. "Truth to tell, I can't quite believe it my own self," he admitted. "But Ethan surely made it work."

She grinned. "He just wants to be a pirate like his old man," she said.

"Hey, less of the old, _xiao_ _mei-mei_." He lowered himself next to her. "Now we just gotta figure out how to keep it working."

They sat in silence for a few seconds before Kaylee said, "You think they're gonna be back any time soon? Only I gotta get to the yard, see about that part."

"Pretty soon."

They were quiet for maybe half a minute more.

"I guess Ethan's just having too much fun leading them a merry chase."

"Prob'ly."

"Yeah," she said, laughing quietly. "Just like his dad."


	4. Chapter 4

When eventually Simon and Freya strolled back, Ethan slung over the young doctor's shoulder like a giggling sack of Gen-seed, Mal was sitting in Kaylee's fold-out striped chair just on the ramp, legs stretched out in the sunshine slanting into the cargo bay. He looked relaxed.

"You found him, then," he said, nodding at Ethan, as always slightly surprised by Simon's quiet strength.

"He was halfway across town," Freya said. "If Simon hadn't snuck up on him from behind, I hate to think where he'd have ended up."

"Funny Mama," Ethan said, wriggling. Simon put the little boy down, and he bounced up to his father. "Daddy! Did I do it right?"

He lifted his son onto his lap, and grinned. "That you did. Maybe a little too right, in running quite so far, but you did good." He mussed his son's hair.

Ethan leaned closer, feeling sun-warmed cotton under his cheeks. "Bethie's going to be jealous," he said quietly, as if it was a secret.

Mal had to laugh. "I reckon she is, but you've got to be a gentleman and not make it worse. No crowing."

"Not even a little bit?" His bottom lip stuck out. "She does. When she can."

"I know, but she's a girl. It's allowed."

"Why?"

Mal shrugged, very carefully not looking at his wife. "Just is. They can say 'I told you so', and we just have to accept it. And not say it back."

"Do you do that with Mama?"

"I surely do."

_I'll remember you said that_, Freya's voice blossomed in his mind. _And I have witnesses_.

Mal grinned up at her as Ethan rolled his eyes.

"Use words," he said on a huge sigh.

"Now, you know that ain't gonna happen, _xiao er_," Mal said, laughing.

Another sigh, if possible even bigger than the last one. "I know."

"Ethan, you'd better go and wash up," his mother said, unsuccessfully trying to stop a smile of her own. "You're bound to be all dusty. And then we'll see if we can't find some milk and cookies."

"Some of Auntie Kaylee's?" His eyes were bright, wide open.

"Possibly."

"Yum." He slid from Mal's lap. "Don't be long," he ordered, running his thumbs behind his small set of braces before starting to climb the stairs.

"You know he's never going to get to sleep tonight, don't you?" Freya said quietly to Mal, who had a huge, proud smile of his own on his face. "He had far too good a time."

"Yeah, well, good that he earns his keep." He grunted as her foot made contact with his shin. "I only meant that he's my son. And that's what sons do. Help out their dads."

"That's what you meant, was it?"

"Kinda." He stood up, wondering if he was going to be limping for a week. "He enjoyed it, _ai ren_."

"And when he wants to come in with us tonight?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "When he's lying awake, and becomes all fractious? And he stops you from ... sleeping?"

"I could always dope him for you," Simon suggested.

Freya turned to stare at him, open-mouthed, then realised belatedly that he was joking. "Dr Tam, I think you've been spending far too long in the company of bad men."

"I came to that conclusion about two weeks after I joined the crew."

Mal chuckled. "As long as that."

"Maybe I was exaggerating." Simon glanced around the cargo bay. "By the way, where's _my_ wife?"

"Gone to get that part," Mal said, pulling Freya against him and wrapping his arm around her waist. "Zoe and Hank took her off to the yard. Don't know what they're likely to get for her, but might be a few credits."

"Hopefully she's worth a bit more than that."

"Okay. Maybe a bit."

Freya shook her head at him. "You're in a playful mood."

"I figure we've got a bit of breathing space," he admitted. "Still ain't sure what we're gonna do about these elections, but at least maybe I've got time to be contemplating a plan." He looked beyond them. "Where's Jayne and your sis?"

"River wanted to take a look around. She said she has an idea, but won't tell me what." He looked more resigned than concerned.

Mal, on the other hand, asked, "Should I be worried?"

"No more than usual."

"That much. Oddly enough, my playful mood has mysteriously disappeared."

Freya smiled.

* * *

"That looks like a good one," Kaylee said, bending down as far as she could and still not managing to reach the bottom of the bin. Hank had said he had a few bits to get in town, and Zoe was waiting at the scrapyard entrance, having no interest in the innards of machinery beyond knowing it was what kept them flying, but the young mechanic was quite happy, being in her element, despite her pregnancy getting in the way.

"No, now, miss," the owner of the scrapyard, insisted. "You shouldn't be doing that, not in your condition." He leaned in himself. "Which one was it? This'n?"

"Oh, no," she said quickly, pointing. "That one."

The owner, one Leo Gunn according to the sign outside, grunted, dropping the inferior part back and picking up the other. "Seems like you know your engines, missie."

Kaylee grinned. "Just know a decent grav boot when I see one." She took it from him, examining it carefully. "Though, a'course, I can tell when they ain't been cleaned that well." She held up a finger, now covered in grime from where she'd run it around the inside flange.

Gunn looked almost embarrassed under his weather-beaten and heavily tanned face. "Most folk can't, truth be told. Give you a good price for it, though."

She smiled at him. "I know what you mean. My Cap, if I ain't talking in words of one syllable or less, he doesn't understand an air intake from a zefron blade."

Gunn's forehead creased. "A what blade?"

She giggled, an infectious sound that had him feeling all kinds of warm, no matter that he was at least twice her age and she was eight months pregnant. "I just made that up. See, my Cap would've just nodded, and let me get on with it."

"The way it should be," Gunn agreed. "Now, anything else I can do you for?"

"You got any dual couplers? No point in me replacing the grav boot without doing the couplers too."

"You got a Capisson 8 engine?"

"Nope." Kaylee shook her head firmly, appalled that he'd even suggest such a thing. "My boat's a Firefly, and she's the sweetest ride from here to ... well, wherever."

"That the one landed at the docks a coupla hours since?"

"That's her."

"Then I think I got what you need." Gunn chuckled. "Guess you didn't know it was election time, then."

Kaylee sighed. "No. Not 'til we landed and it was too late."

"I always said, they need to warn folks. All it'd take is a polite mention when you call for landing instructions. But no, they don't want to. You'd think they was getting paid for as many people possible through that election booth." He leaned closer, and Kaylee could smell stale body odour, although whether it was from him or his ancient overalls was debatable. "Truth is, it wouldn't surprise me if they did."

"Don't you vote, Mr Gunn?" She put on her brightest face.

"Not like I got any choice." He carried the grav boot back towards his shack. "Always pick the worst, though, that's my motto. Can't be much shoddier'n what we get."

"Mr Gunn, I get the feeling you ain't from around these parts."

"I'm not." He grinned at her over his shoulder. "Came here on a freighter more'n thirty-five years ago. Found me a niche and decided to stay. Not like I had anything to go home to, not back on Phoros."

She couldn't believe her ears. "Phoros?"

"Mmn. That's where I was born." He stopped and turned on her, his face suspicious. "Why?"

"That's where I'm from!" She was almost jiggling in her excitement.

"No."

"It's true. My dad, he's got a place, works for the factories when there is work, or does maintenance on the ships at the dock."

Gunn's eyes had widened, his jaw was slack as he studied her face, searching for something. "Your dad? What's that man's name?"

"Frye. Edmondos Frye. Only everyone calls him –"

"Eddie." Gunn shook his head. "I don't believe it. You're Eddie's girl?"

"You know my Pa?"

"I was at his wedding, girl!" Gunn laughed. "Ellie Keller, as was. Most beautiful bride I'd ever seen. Mind, I ain't seen that many, but that girl'd've made any Core dandified lady go and hide."

"She's still beautiful," Kaylee avowed.

"I don't doubt it, not if you're anything to go by." He watched her blush prettily. "I left just after, so I never did ... gorramit if you don't look like your Ma. You got any brothers and sisters?"

"Four brothers, all older'n me. Ma said they kept trying until they got a girl."

"Yeah, Eddie always said he wanted a little babe in pigtails to dangle on his knee." Gunn chuckled. "And you're it."

"I'm it." She held out her hand. "My name's Kaylee."

They shook, Leo Gunn holding on for longer than was really necessary. "You know, I once had an eye for your mother. Not that she ever knew. She never looked at anyone but your Pa, and I was shy in those days."

Kaylee extricated her fingers. "I don't think you've got that problem now," she said shrewdly.

"Nope. Otherwise I'd be lonely." He grinned again, this time showing he had less teeth than when he was a teenager.

"Kaylee?" It was Zoe, walking through the scrapyard in her normal stately fashion.

"Zoe!" Kaylee waddled towards her. "You're never going to believe it."

"I thought you were only going to be a few minutes," Zoe said, shaking her head slightly. "You know what Mal will say about space monkeys if you buy more than you came for."

"I know." Kaylee waved away her captain's possible objections. "It's just ... Zoe, this is Leo Gunn. Turns out, he's from Phoros, and he knew my folks, and was at their wedding!"

Zoe smiled slightly. "It sounds to me as if you've been having an interesting conversation."

"Oh, we were."

Zoe looked at the older man, his back bent before his time, his hair a sort of greyish blond, thinning on top. "Mr Gunn."

He bobbed his head slightly. "Ma'am." He smiled at her. "Your Captain's sure got good taste when it comes to his crew. If'n you two're anything to go by."

"We work well together."

"That weren't quite ... I'm only saying that you're the prettiest pair that's come walking into my yard in many a long month."

"That's nice."

"I don't suppose you'd like to come out for a drink with me? Either of you?" Leo Gunn looked hopeful.

Kaylee shook her head, managing to look almost apologetic. "Not sure my husband would approve," she said, rubbing her belly.

"What about you?" He turned to Zoe.

For a moment she wasn't sure whether to laugh or shoot him, but since she wasn't actually carrying a gun at that moment, she made do with a smile. "Mr Gunn, Not only would my husband not approve, neither would I."

He chuckled. "Well, can't fault a man for trying." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Couplers are inside."

They followed him towards a shack made out of corrugated steel panels, and as they walked Zoe asked Kaylee, keeping her voice low, "Did you get everything else you needed?"

The younger woman grinned widely. "Surely did. And a nice compliment on top."

"Kaylee, he's old enough to be your ... your grandfather," Zoe pointed out.

"Oh, I know that. It's just nice to be told I'm pretty once in a while." She glanced down at her stomach. "'Specially when I'm looking like this."

"You're always beautiful. Even when you're covered in engine grease. And I'm sure Simon tells you that all the time."

Kaylee giggled. "He's surely better than he used to be," she agreed.

Gunn stopped outside the door. "I'll just get them couplers for you, then we can discuss price," he said, having shown no signs of having heard them. He motioned them both into his shack, following them into the slightly fuggy gloom.

"Thanks, Leo," Kaylee said, smiling fondly at him and earning herself a huge grin.

"So," he said, going around the other side of the counter, "you got any ideas who you're going to be voting for?"

"Nope," Kaylee admitted. "Not had that much of a chance to look, yet."

"If you're really interested, just take a look at the Cortex. There's pretty much nothing on the local channels, 'cept every candidate and his dog taking up time in telling us why they should be assistant district education commissioner, or some such." Gunn spat accurately into a brass vessel by the counter. "I tell you, if I had someplace else to go, you wouldn't see me for dust." He started rummaging around in the crates ranged along the walls.

"They're really hot on these elections, then?" Zoe asked.

"Oh, yeah." His voice was muffled for a moment. "You'd think it was the be all and end all, far as they're concerned. Damn good thing they only happen every five years, else there'd be a riot."

"And they make sure you vote?"

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "I'll say." Standing up, a collection of coils in his hand, he gave a grunt of disgust. "Last election time, there was a ship, pretty much in your position, came down, didn't know. Got to ten in the evening and they hadn't voted. The returning officer, the mayor, and the local Alliance commander all went down there, with a dozen purp ..." He coughed, as if a particular word had caught in his throat. "A dozen good soldiers, all armed to the teeth. They got on board, frog-marched those folks down to the booth, stood over 'em while they voted, then took 'em all off to jail. I'll tell you, I was kinda surprised they didn't string 'em up there and then. But they spent a good six months bound, and then got fined too. When they finally left, they were a lot lighter in the pocket than when they arrived."

Kaylee glanced at Zoe. "Strict."

Gunn nodded. "This far out, they're about as close to being full Alliance as you can get. Can't help but say it, young Miss Kaylee, but you didn't exactly land on the friendliest of planets when you put down on Jericho."

* * *

Jayne lounged against the tree, watching the people go by. It was quite pleasant, standing in the cool shade, soft grass under his feet, but he felt naked. He'd listened to Mal – well, mostly – and being off ship without at least one gun on his hip was making him feel vulnerable. In fact, it was only little Mandy snuggled up in the small of his back under his t-shirt that stopped him going straight back to the ship and pulling the covers over his head until they left this damn place.

Whoever heard of a place not letting a man carry his piece? Well, okay, there was Canton, on Higgins Moon, but that didn't exactly end well. At least he had Binky with him that day. Then there was the Brothers of Adam settlement on Calliope, but they were a bunch of morons anyway. Nearly strung him up for something he didn't do. Mind, if they'd known what he _had_ done, they really would have hung him. Then cut him down afore he was dead to hang him again.

He grinned slightly. See, it really never did do well not carrying some kind of firearm.

Or grenades.

"I have mine," River said, having ghosted up behind him and now whispering in his ear. "Not grenades, but …"

"You know, technically, I prob'ly shouldn't've let you off the ship," he said quietly as she moved around him until she stood with her spine pressed against his chest. "Seeing as you're a weapon entire and whole."

"Your weapon," she murmured, leaning on him.

He groaned slightly. "Girl, you keep doing that, and I ain't gonna be trusting to my actions."

She smiled and moved forward, just enough. "Can't have that."

Just enough was too much, he decided, wrapping his muscled arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. That was better.

Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like without this slip of a woman he'd married, after she'd chased him halfway across the 'verse, it seemed, but every time the answer was the same – poorer. Not in money, but just 'cause she seemed to make him complete. And it wasn't because she had her gun in a thigh holster under that pretty dress of hers, either. "So, you seen enough?"

She nodded, her cheeks just tinted with warmth as she read his feelings as if they were written on the sky in letters of flame. "I have."

"You come up with anything?"

"Perhaps." She gazed up at the tall building in front of them, a large banner strung across the third floor windows stating 'Jericho Wells – Election Office'.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

"When we're all together." Leaning against him, her brow furrowed slightly. "But I think it might work."


	5. Chapter 5

"So, what's this plan you've come up with, albatross?" Mal poured two mugs of coffee and took them back to the table, placing one down in front of his wife and sipping the other, his gaze staying on River. "And am I going to like it?"

The rest of the crew were in their places, the children in the rest area under the observation dome, the last of the sun having just dropped below the horizon. Fiddler was at their feet, while Maoli had spread herself out on the cushion behind Ethan's head.

The psychic lifted her eyes from her hands, her dark eyes unreadable. "I don't know."

"You started not peeking now?"

"Then, no. You're not going to like it."

"Good. Can't be lying to your captain." He nodded. "Better get on with me not liking it, then."

"Jayne and I went for a walk."

"Figured that much." He took another sip. "So?"

"I wanted to take a look at the Election offices," she admitted. "To see if we could break in."

Everyone stilled, and Mal leaned forward. "You mean into the offices themselves."

"Yes."

"And do what, exactly?"

"If we can get inside, I can reprogramme the computers."

Mal glanced at Freya, who nodded very slightly. "Reprogramme."

"Yes. Tell them we're not who we think we are, but who we say we are."

"Riv, there's guards all around the place." Jayne might have looked like he'd been lounging, but he'd been taking everything in, like the expert tracker he was.

"I know."

"And that'd make it more'n likely someone'd notice us sneaking in."

"Yes."

"So how're you planning on it?"

"I don't know. Yet."

Mal put his elbows on the table. "River, could you tell the layout? From where you were?"

"A little. I read some of the minds going in and out, but it was like ants, so intent on what they were doing that it made me itch." She shifted in her chair as if her skin was irritating.

"_Mei-mei_ …" Simon said, concerned.

She smiled at him. "It's all right. It isn't a particularly bad day. It's just … a lot of new people, all tight-witted, bound by their rules and conventions until they squeak." She looked around the table. "I just can't concentrate very well."

"You ain't pregnant again, are you?" Kaylee asked, rubbing her own belly affectionately.

"I … no." River laughed, a welcome sound. "Not for lack of trying."

"Second that," Jayne grunted, looking at his wife with undisguised affection.

Simon looked pained, which only made River grin wider. "Boob," she said softly.

"Brat."

"Yeah, well, now we've got that out of the way, can we get back to the matter in hand?" Mal asked, feeling Freya's calming influence in his mind but only amused. "Do you know how we get in or not?"

"Not," River supplied, making herself take a deep breath. "Yet."

"But if we could … you could make the changes?"

She nodded. "Simple. Set it to take effect a second before polling opens. Then the Cortex will automatically update at midnight to rescind them."

That was the way things worked – ships either requested any new information as and when they needed or got it automatically when they made landfall, but the outer planets and moons themselves only generally logged on once a day. That in itself had been a boon on one occasion, when during a single day the Serenity crew had managed to relieve two banks on close-by but separate border moons of their cashey-money without firing a shot because none of the other banks had been warned.

"But won't that flag up we've been by?" Zoe asked.

"It won't matter," Freya put in. "We'll have voted under our fake IDs. Simon Frye, River Cobb, Freya Reynolds … they won't know any difference. And it's unlikely they'd ever cross-check."

"And if they did, I can set a scrubber routine to run," River added.

"Scrubber routine?" Zoe had a vague recollection of some such thing, but apparently Hank understood, as did Kaylee because they were both nodding.

"It will delete us from the memory without touching any other records," the young woman clarified.

"That's a good idea, but what if someone remembers?" Kaylee asked. "That man, the one today … he ain't likely to forget, since we're 'bout the only ship that's landed."

"It won't matter."

"I think I see what River's getting at," Mal said. "It's all linked up, right?"

"Right," River confirmed. "Hand held readers, main computer … all networked."

"So change one, you change 'em all."

She smiled at him. "Yes."

"And a man ain't gonna say the machine's wrong … he's more like to figure his memory ain't quite accurate, especially if he's Alliance-inclined."

"I'm not sure that's actually a reason for him to doubt himself," Simon said, "but people do tend to believe a computer can't possibly get it wrong."

Mal nodded. "So we just need a way to get inside."

"It's pretty heavily guarded, like Jayne said," Hank pointed out. "And for a world this far from the Core they'll have damn good technical security."

"It's 'cause they're Alliance," the big man put in. "All those worlds supported Unification the way they did got the best."

"While the rest of us had to make do with leftovers," Mal muttered. "But that still doesn't get us in the front door."

"The official candidates get in there." Simon looked around as all eyes turned to him. "They have to," he explained. "It's law that they can check any database of electors they wish, at any time."

"Yeah, but we don't know any of 'em, let alone trust 'em enough to get done what we have to."

"I don't think that's what Simon was suggesting." Freya leaned forward. "Were you?"

The young doctor nodded, then shook his head. "Not quite. I was thinking perhaps … one of us could run for office."

"It's kinda late to be thinking alone those lines, doc," Mal said, his lips lifting.

"No, it isn't."

"Come again?"

"Did you read those leaflets that official gave you today?"

Mal shrugged. "Nope. Didn't see the need."

"I did."

Mal waited, but the young man just sat looking a bit smug. "Just spit it out, will you, Simon?"

Despite being very intelligent – top three percent as everybody remembered – Simon sat for just a moment more, relishing knowing something that Mal didn't. Then he said, in an even tone, "If there are vacancies in the election procedure, any citizen of the Alliance can put their name forward to be added to the ballot up to and including not less than three days before the date of the election itself."

"Did you memorise that specially?" Mal asked, only a trifle sardonically.

Simon ignored him. "The leaflets listed the names of the candidates, five for each position. Several only have four."

Mal touched Freya's hand and she nodded, getting up to fetch the portable Cortex link she used for lessons from the cupboard in the corner.

"Don't we have to be residents?" Kaylee wanted to know.

"We are," Hank explained. "As far as the Alliance is concerned, as soon as we landed we became residents of Jericho, else they'd never be able to make us vote."

"Then that seems to be the way in." Mal nodded slowly. "So, what do we do? Go to the offices and add our names?"

"It's not quite that easy," the pilot said. "You have to be nominated by someone else, a person of good standing." He looked around the crew. "And I'm not sure any of us actually count."

"Leo," Kaylee said brightly.

"What?" Mal turned to her.

"Not what, who. Leo Gunn. The owner of the scrapyard." She looked at her husband. "He was nice, reminded me a bit of my Pa."

Zoe chuckled. "Can't say I saw it myself."

Kaylee grinned. "Anyway, I'm sure he'd nominate one of us, if'n I asked nicely."

"The way he was looking at you, _mei-mei_, I think he'd do much anything if you asked nicely enough."

Kaylee coloured a little, but flattered nevertheless.

"Sounds like a plan," Mal said. "Then it just leaves us to decide who stands."

Hank grinned. "And I used to wish I owned Serenity."

Mal's brow furrowed. "What're your lips flapping about now?"

"Well, it's obvious." The pilot was highly entertained. "I think it's got to be you."

"Me?"

"As Captain." He held up his hand, plucking the words out of nothingness. "Parliamentary Member Malcolm Reynolds. Has a kind of a ring to it, don't you think?"

Mal glared at him.

"Actually, I don't think you have a choice, sir," Zoe put in.

"I ain't a politician," Mal pointed out.

"You won't win," Freya said, studying the Cortex link, only half listening.

"And it's the only way," Simon confirmed.

"I'd do it," River put in, "but I don't think you'd let me."

"Ain't that the truth, albatross," Mal finally said, sighing heavily. He clasped his hands together in front of him on the old wood, his brow furrowed in thought. He looked at Hank. "And they're still open to nominations?"

The pilot nodded. "Just get your person of good standing to the Election office."

Mal stiffened his jaw. "Well, I guess I'd -"

"No," Freya interrupted.

"What?" He turned to look at her. "No … why?"

"You're a man."

"Huh?"

"I've just checked the nominations. They're all closed now except one."

"And that would be …"

"Women's rights campaigner. Apparently, on this planet, it's seen as a big issue. And they're very strict in who they want representing them." She was trying not to smile. "Sorry, Mal, but you're the wrong sex."

"They're insisting on -"

"A woman."

"Well, that puts a different complexion on things," Mal muttered.

Simon was beginning to get agitated. "Mal, there isn't an alternative. If we don't get access to the computers, River and I will get bound. There are no two ways about this."

"I know, doc. Just let me think a while."

"I say we go take over Port Control after dark," Jayne contributed. "Lift the landlock by force."

"And get us all arrested?" Simon shook his head. "That would be really clever."

"Yeah, well, if Mal can't be one of them candidates, I don't exactly see a choice."

"I do," River said quietly.

"Nope." Jayne was firm, taking her hand and squeezing it. "You ain't gonna stand, we already decided that."

"Not me." Her large eyes ranged across the assembled crew before alighting on one particular face. "Zoe."

"What?" The first mate looked stunned.

"Only one."

"What are you talking about, _xiao nu_?" Mal asked.

River held up a hand, four fingers raised. "As we said, I can't do it." She pushed one finger down. "Freya isn't Freya. Good ID, but perhaps not enough to pass any in-depth scrutiny. And the captain wouldn't put her at risk of exposure as Elena Rostov."

"Damn straight about that," the captain himself muttered.

River lowered another finger. "Kaylee can't do it. She is legally who she is, but she has to fix the ship. And she is pregnant." Another finger went down. "Only one left." She pointed. "Zoe Mills, nee Washburne, nee Alleyne. War veteran. With an impeccable ID."

Everyone stared at her, then transferred their attention to the woman in question.

"No," Zoe said flatly. "I ain't a politician."

"Odd, but that's what I said. And I don't think that's what they're looking for," Mal said softly. "They're looking for a woman who'll stand up for herself, and not let a man walk all over her."

"I'm not doing it."

"How about I order you to?"

"And have you walk all over me?" she countered.

"Good point." Mal allowed a smile to lift his lips. "But River's right. If there ain't no alternative, and I'm telling you now I ain't gonna have the operation just so's I can stand in your place, then it's up to you. Frey's right, you won't be elected anyway, so you don't have to worry about that. But it might be our only chance of getting away from this planet with our skivvies intact."

"Thank you for that wonderful mental image, sir," Zoe said witheringly.

"You're welcome." He looked at Hank. "Election office?"

"With your person of good standing," the pilot confirmed.

"Best be talking to that Leo Gunn." He slapped his hands together and grinned. "Kaylee, you wanna do the honours and introduce us?"

She managed to stand up, only having to lean on Simon's shoulder a little. "_Mei wen ti_, Cap."

"Ya mean you ain't gonna be wearing a dress?" Jayne asked.

"Not this time."

"Reckon Frey's glad about that." He got to his feet and strode out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

It was already dark as Mal, Kaylee and Zoe walked the short distance to the scrapyard.

"He won't be there," Serenity's first mate said. "Do you know what the local time is?"

"Trying to get out of it?" Mal asked in turn, his lips curved.

"No, sir."

"Zo, this is me. You're wanting to do this about as much as I want to be an Alliance Fed."

She glared at him, but her expression was lost in the gloom. "As you – and everyone else – has pointed out, I don't have a choice."

"You know," Kaylee put in, "I wouldn't'a minded doing it." At Mal's look, she went on quickly, "Oh, I know I can't. But I'd'v'e stood up for women's rights, same as men's. Back on Phoros, men and women are equals. Just 'cause my Ma stayed at home and brought us all up wasn't 'cause it was expected. She could've gone into the factories, or whatever else was on offer, even if it was something that ain't traditionally women's work."

"I can't see your mother as a gunhand," Mal said, then winced dramatically as his mechanic thumped him on the arm.

She knew she hadn't hurt him, and grinned. "If she'd wanted to be, she could've. Her choice."

"That's the point, isn't it?" Zoe said, her voice low, thinking carefully before speaking. "Choice. That's what freedom comes down to."

Mal nodded. This was a conversation he'd had before with his oldest and best friend, and probably one they'd have again in the future. "Choice. Whether to say yes or no. Do or don't. Become part of the Alliance or stay Independent."

"Fought a war on those principles, sir."

"Live or die."

"Or keep flying."

Kaylee stopped walking, and it was a moment before the other two noticed. They paused, turning back to look at her.

"What?" Mal asked.

"You're enough to make a woman wanna take up arms, you know that? And not to kill purplebellies," she added. "Whenever you get around to talking like this, I end up depressed."

"You?" Mal couldn't help smiling. "Depressed?"

"Me." She crossed her arms over her swollen belly. "I know I got hormones, and they make me all kindsa … uppity, but can't you for once not talk about the war like it's still going on? It ain't. It's over. And the both of you've got loving spouses back on Serenity, and kids, and … it might've been hard getting here, but would either of you wanna be somewhere else?"

"Is she mad at us, Zoe?" Mal asked.

"I think she is, sir."

"Not mad," Kaylee said firmly. "Just … depressed."

"And uppity," Mal added. "Don't forget uppity."

"It's kinda like being threatened by a teddy bear," Zoe said thoughtfully. "You know, you just ain't expecting any such thing."

"Not threatening. Just saying." Kaylee was now tapping her foot. "Well?"

"Well … what?" Mal asked.

"Ain't you gonna answer?"

Mal walked back to her. "_Mei-mei_, I didn't rightly know there was a question in there."

She sighed heavily. "Given what you've got now, would you want to go back, change things, and have it turn out different?"

"You mean no war, no Serenity Valley, no –"

Kaylee interrupted. "No Freya. No Ethan or Jesse."

He looked into her eyes, unable to make out their hazel tones, but knowing she was perfectly serious. "Kaylee, I'd give almost anything not to have gone through that, and what came after." He held up a hand to forestall her next words. "I said _almost_. There ain't no way in hell I'm giving up my family. All of 'em, and that includes you. But to even think about losing Frey, Ethan and Jesse? Nope. If you tied me up and said I had to go live it all over again, just so's I could keep 'em, I'd hold out my hands for my gun and tell you to go ahead. I'd walk into hell for 'em, and not complain."

"No, sir?" Zoe asked softly, smiling behind him.

"Okay, maybe I'd complain a little. But I'd still go. And you know that."

Kaylee looked shamefaced. "I know. I'm sorry."

He couldn't help it. He smiled and pulled her into his arms, as much as he could with her pregnancy in the way. "Don't be. You're right. Me and Zoe, maybe we do think on it a trifle much, and we need to be reminded of what we've got." He looked across. "Right, Zoe?"

"Right, sir. On pretty much every point."

"What ain't I right on?"

"Mainly the complaining part."

"You can be replaced."

"I think we've had this conversation before, sir, and you know I can't."

He chuckled. "See, Kaylee," he said, looking down at her. "Even my old friend here likes to have a go at me. So you're in good company."

The young mechanic bridled. "I wasn't –"

"Kaylee. I know." He squeezed her gently. "And you're the bright sun in our forever night, so you just keep pointing things out to us."

"Forever night, sir?" Zoe raised an eyebrow.

"Just being poetical."

"I like it," Kaylee said, standing up for her captain no matter what. "_Forever night_. Sounds like something River might say."

He feigned horror. "Now that's just mean."

Kaylee laughed.

"Sir? Leo Gunn?" Zoe prodded.

"Yep, quite right." Mal let go of Kaylee. "Ladies. After you."

"Why, thank you, kind sir," Kaylee said, still giggling.

* * *

It wasn't much more than a couple of minutes, and they were standing outside the scrapyard.

"Not here," Zoe said. "Like I said." She tried the padlock again, but it was still firmly secured.

"Wait a sec." Kaylee had spied something on the ground, and was trying to reach down to get it.

"No you don't," Mal said, dropping to his heels. "I'll get it." He lifted up a board, reading the words inked on it before smiling. "Well, ain't that nice? He's told us where he'll be." He turned it around so they could see, just making out _'If I ain't here, I've either gone home or I'm at Lacey's. Head on into town – you can't miss it.'_

"He might be at home," Zoe pointed out.

"Nah." Kaylee took the board from Mal and propped it up on the gate post. "I reckon he's having a drink. He seemed like that type, 'specially from the smell." Her nose wrinkled at the memory of body odour and beer.

"Kaylee, I think you're probably right," Mal said. "Seems like we've got someplace else to get to, doesn't it?"

* * *

Lacey's turned out to be a bar with a large expanse of what looked like real glass in the window, and seats outside. There were a few couples taking advantage of the warm night air, some with food in front of them, but they could see a lot more people inside.

"Honestly, I'm surprised," Mal said, taking in the view. "He didn't sound like the kind of feller who'd frequent this sort of establishment."

"Too upmarket?" Zoe asked.

"A little." The banner hanging from the post next to him snapped in the breeze, and he looked up, his hand automatically going to his hip, reaching for something that wasn't there.

"I feel naked as well, sir."

"Yeah." He chuckled briefly. "Especially considering there are lots of way for a man to die, and they don't hardly at all involve a knife or a gun."

_Don't worry, _he heard in his mind, Freya's mental voice wrapping around him like a warm comforter. _We're keeping an eye out._

He smiled. _You and my albatross?_

_Absolutely. And all this while Simon's cooking._

_He got you on fatigues?_

_For my sins._

_You don't sin, ai ren. Least, not much._

_And you don't complain. Least, not much._

He could feel her laughing.

Zoe peered at him. "Frey?" she asked.

He focused again. "Mmn. How did you know?"

Zoe exchanged an amused look with Kaylee, neither of them wanting to admit they could tell when their captain and his lady were conversing in ways other than words just by the satisfied look on his face. "It doesn't matter. And we're wasting time."

Mal's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't pursue it. "Shiny. Let's go find your man, Kaylee."

They headed into Lacey's, standing for a moment just inside the door to let their eyes adjust to the bright light, as well as to check the place over.

"Maybe I should have changed my shirt," Mal muttered.

Lacey's might have been a bar, but it was cleaner and smelled prettier than almost any place he'd ever been in, and that included during some down time on Ariel that none of them knew about. It made the Maidenhead on Beaumonde look shabby.

"Puttin' on airs, ain't they?" Kaylee said quietly.

"Reckon they are," Zoe agreed. "Do you see Leo Gunn?"

"There he is." Kaylee barely nodded towards the back of the room. "Playing cards."

Mal perused the men she'd pointed out. "Which one's –"

"Back to us. In the striped shirt."

"Shiny." He walked forward, the women following, weaving between tables where other patrons were either drinking, eating or playing games of chance.

The five men at the table were too engrossed to notice strangers approaching. Each had a stack of chips in front of them, some bigger than others, and they were all concentrating on the pasteboards in their hands.

"Raise you," the man to the right of Gunn said.

The scrapyard owner flicked up the corner of his cards, and seemed to think for a moment. Then he said, "I'll take that, and raise you ten more." He pushed chips into the centre of the table, the pot getting bigger with each bet.

"He ain't got nothing," Kaylee whispered. "He's bluffing."

Mal had come to the same conclusion, but was curious as to the mental workings of his mechanic. "How'd you know that?"

"He plays like my brother Joe. And that's what he does when he's bluffing. He coulda raised a lot more, made 'em think he's got nothing and is trying to make 'em all fold."

Mal nodded slightly.

Zoe watched the betting progress, glad that Hank wasn't with her. Then she berated herself for the thought. Ever since they'd had that run-in with Boone, she'd tried to be a lot more tolerant of Hank's problem. He'd proved he could and would forgive her for anything, even being a Dust Devil, so it was only fair she cut him some slack. Still, the treacherous little voice at the back of her mind insisted on saying that at least he wasn't being put in temptation's way.

Apparently the other players at the table didn't understand Gunn as well as the observers, because they all folded, and he pulled the chips towards him.

"Now ain't that the thing?" he crowed, stacking them carefully.

"Mr Gunn?" Mal asked, keeping his voice low so as not to startle the man.

"Who wants to know?" Gunn didn't turn.

"My name's Malcolm Reynolds. I gather you've met my mechanic and first mate."

Gunn looked up, twisting in his chair, and grinned in happy surprise. "Miss Kaylee! Didn't think I'd get to see you again so soon. You wanting some more parts?"

"Nope," Kaylee said, shaking her head. "Least, not right now. But we got a favour to ask."

"Favour?" Gunn's pale eyebrows drew together. "What kind of favour?"

"Mr Gunn, perhaps we could talk someplace a bit more private?" Mal suggested.

"Sure." He glanced back at his playing partners. "Don't you go touching my chips. I know exactly how many I've got."

The man opposite him curled his lip in disgust. "You really think we'd do that, Leo? How long've we been friends?"

Gunn chuckled, and stood up. "Just saying." He looked up at Mal. "You can buy me a drink, and we can talk."

They followed Gunn towards the long polished wood bar, where the barkeep was already setting out glasses for them.

"Usual, Leo?" he asked.

"Yeah. Four of 'em."

"Three," Kaylee piped up. "I can't." She patted her belly.

"Then a fruit juice for the little lady."

The man began to pour.

"You come here a lot?" Mal asked Gunn, unable to keep the curiosity to himself.

Leo grinned. "You mean this ain't me?" He glanced around, at the ubiquitous Cortex screen half hidden behind a pot plant in the corner, the lush draperies and faintest perfume of pot pourri. "Believe me, there're worse. And they wouldn't let me past the door."

"Why'd that be?"

"'Cause I ain't hoity-toity enough for 'em," Gunn admitted. "This place has ideas above its station. Believe me, if they could they'd move the whole gorram planet closer to the Core. There're folks here that think they're better than the high-ups on Osiris. Jumped up little …" What he was going to say was lost as he picked up one of the now-filled glasses. "A toast," he suggested.

"To what?" Mal didn't want to alienate the man, but if he suggested they drink to the Alliance, he wasn't going to be responsible for his actions.

"Oh, I don't know. How about anything brown?"

Mal's eyebrows raised, just a millimetre. "Not sure what you're suggesting here, Mr Gunn."

"Oh, yes, you are. I was thinking about it. About what young Kaylee here told me, about your ship, your crew. And now I've seen you … you ain't wearing it, but I bet you've got a coat someplace, just the right shade. I'm right, ain't I?"

Mal made a mental note not to underestimate him, either. "Might be."

"Thought so. Ain't seen so many come through here, not as didn't have to, and I didn't fight, but my sympathies didn't exactly lie in bed with the general consensus of opinion."

"And did your … sympathies … interfere much?"

Gunn finished his drink. "Nah, not really. 'Sides, I keep my mouth shut. Like I told Kaylee, I moved here a long time ago, but to them, I'm still a newbie. So they tolerate me, since I don't know any better." He lowered his voice. "But anything I can do for a good Independent …" He tapped the side of his nose.

Kaylee looked up from her glass, which had a lot of fruit in it, and a small paper umbrella. "See, Cap?" she said brightly. "Told you."

"That you did." Mal lifted his own glass. "Mr Gunn, it looks like you're dry … would you care for another?"

* * *

Ten minutes later and they were all sitting at a table in the far corner, Zoe and Mal facing the doors as always, Kaylee and Gunn with their backs to the room.

"So let me get this straight," Gunn was saying. "You want me to stand surety for your first mate here to enter the elections." He shook his head. "Seems more'n a mite odd to me."

"You're a good citizen of Jericho Wells," the young mechanic explained again. "We need your help."

Gunn looked at Serenity's first mate. "You really wanna be elected?"

With admirable stoicism, considering the situation, Zoe nodded. "I feel it is my bounden duty to stand."

"Well, have to say, the way you look you'd be a shoo-in to win if that was what you wanted, but …" Gunn grinned, showing his lack of teeth. "Somehow I don't think that's quite the case."

"Mr Gunn, will you do it or not?" Mal asked. "Because if not –"

"Hold your horses, young feller. Let a man ponder on things for a while." Gunn took a moment to pull a wad of chewing tobacco from his pocket, slicing a fragment from it with a very sharp looking knife that he flicked closed and slid away again. The tobacco he popped into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

He was at it so long even Zoe began to get restless.

Eventually Gunn let out a long, slow breath. "You got the hundred credits deposit?" he asked.

Mal nodded. Luckily Freya had come up with the information on the Cortex, otherwise he'd be sitting there with his lips gaping like a landed fish. "Back on board," he said, jerking his head in the general direction of Serenity.

"You get it back, soon as the election's over," Gunn added. "I guess they wanna make sure you don't just feel like playing games with them. You know, standing for specious reasons."

If Mal felt surprised that this man in front of him with his back bowed from hours of heavy lifting, should know such a word as 'specious', let alone be able to use it in normal conversation, he didn't show it. "Mr Gunn, we have good reasons for standing. Nothing specious at all."

Gunn fixed the younger man with his bright, sharp eyes. "You can tell me. It ain't like I'm gonna be gabbing off to every idiot I meet."

For a long moment Mal seriously considered telling Gunn the real reason, but he held his tongue. He might say he was a friend of the Fryes, might even be the same, but people change. He'd had first hand knowledge of that on more than one occasion himself, from those who had seemed to be dyed in the wool Independents, and learned his lesson the hard way. He shrugged. "I know. But the truth is we're only here so Kaylee can fix the ship. Nothing else. And Zoe took it into her mind that she wanted to take a crack at standing for office."

"Got nothing else to do, huh?"

"Pretty much."

Leo glanced down at Zoe's wedding ring. "And her husband didn't have a mortal word to say about it?"

"Not a one."

Gunn sighed. "Well, you decide you wanna tell me the truth, I'll be around." He drained his glass and slammed it down on the table. "My turn to buy, I think. While I'm trying to make up my mind."

* * *

"Where are they?" Freya asked, stepping down the ramp to the dirt of Jericho Wells.

"Oh, they're coming," Kaylee said, walking out of the gloom. "I was getting kinda tired, so I came on ahead."

"Are you all right?" A look of concern crossed her face.

"Shiny." Kaylee grinned. "Been a long day, is all."

"And did you have a good time?" Freya asked, reaching out and taking the paper umbrella from behind Kaylee's ear and handing it to the young mechanic.

"It was fun," Kaylee admitted. "That Leo can sure talk, and some of the stories … well, it'd make your hair curl."

"Even mine?"

"Even yours."

"They must have been something to hear."

"That they were. And drink … he could put beer it like there's no tomorrow."

"And I suppose Mal was matching him?"

"Not really. But he had a few."

"So he's drunk." Freya felt a frisson of irritation. "He knows he's not supposed to, not yet. Not until Simon says –"

"No," Kaylee insisted. "Not drunk. Just … happy." She grinned.

"Happy. Mal."

Kaylee thumped her friend lightly on the arm. "Now you know he can be happy. And that's your fault. For making him all … happy."

Freya had to laugh. "Well, you go on up to the galley and get yourself something to eat," she said. "Everyone else has finished, but I know Simon put a plate aside for you."

"Great! All that juice has made me hungry." She twirled the paper umbrella in her fingers, starting for the stairs up to the kitchen. She paused. "On second thoughts, all that juice …" She changed direction and instead waddled towards the common area and the guest facilities.

Freya smiled. She remembered that alright – having to be careful how much she drank because the unborn child was sitting squarely on her bladder.

She turned back to the darkness outside Serenity, although it wasn't really dark. It seemed Jericho Wells held no store in the night, and tried to banish all trace of it. Almost every light seemed to be on in the town, and the resultant glow obscured her view of the stars entirely. She extended her mind, and felt Mal coming, a little muzzy but close by. Indeed, a moment later she saw him and Zoe round the buildings further off and amble towards her.

"No, please, don't rush," she said as they got closer, more than a little irony in her tone. "Not on my account."

"We ain't late, are we?" Mal asked, his thumbs hitched into his pockets.

"Depends on what you mean by late. Supper's finished, the kids are in bed and you're …" She waved a hand in front of her face as they reached her. "You smell like a brewery."

"That's me. Sorry," Zoe said, wiping at her sleeve. "Someone with a mug got too close."

"Is he still breathing?"

"He's fine," Mal put in quickly. "We didn't think Zoe should start her election campaign being bound."

"Probably not a good idea." She looked from one to the other. "So Leo Gunn came through?"

"That he did, _ai ren_," Mal confirmed. "Tomorrow, soon as the offices open, Zoe's name gets put on the ballot papers." He chuckled. "Seems like we're going to be flying with someone famous."

"Won't that be fun," Freya said drily. "Anyway, there's food waiting, and I think you'd both better have something to eat before you sleep. Soak up some of that excess alcohol."

Mal shook his head. "Kaylee talked."

"She might have mentioned it."

He grinned. "Damn, but that Leo can drink. I'm thinking of putting him and Jayne against each other, see who's left standing, and I'm not sure my money'd be on Jayne."

"He'd probably like that, since he's already complaining there's no-one to shoot."

His grin widened. "Ah, well, we've been talking about that."

Freya sighed. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Zoe looked at the captain and his wife, and decided retreat was the order of the day. "Well, I'm for my bed. And I need to change anyway." She sniffed her sleeve and grimaced. "If you happen to see Hank, ask him to bring my supper down, will you?"

"No problem," Freya said, her eyes still narrowed slightly at her husband.

Zoe couldn't help the slight twitch to her lips, but climbed the stairs, leaving them to it. She heard the outer bay doors close, then voices, not yet raised in anger, but didn't turn back.

She made it to her bunk without encountering anyone, although she glimpsed Kaylee sitting at the table in the kitchen, tucking into her food, Simon at her side. He looked like he was checking her pulse, or maybe he was just holding her hand.

Dropping down the ladder, she quickly stripped her shirt off, dropping it onto a pile destined for the laundry, then stretched, her hands reaching for the ceiling, letting out a small groan as her muscles protested. Maybe she was getting old.

"Whooee," Hank said, his feet preceding him, holding on by only one hand as he carried a plate in the other. "Smells like you've been drinking."

She smiled at him. "Only a little. Not like Mal." She looked at the food. "Did Freya find you?"

"Nah. They're still 'discussing' things." He put the plate on the bedside table. "I was on the bridge, checking everything was hunky-dory before turning in. I saw you."

"I didn't see you."

"Ah, but I'm a master of disguise." He twirled an imaginary moustache. "Come on, sit down and eat."

Perching on the end of the bed, she picked up the plate, sniffing it appreciatively. "Simon certainly knows how to cook."

"Attention to detail," Hank said, busy with something next to the dresser. "And he's not the only one." He stood straight, his hands behind his back.

"Not the only one what?" Zoe asked, her mouth full of a meat substitute that might never have been near a cow, but managed to taste like it had.

"With attention to detail." He held out a box. "Happy anniversary."

She swallowed painfully. "Anniversary?"

"Mmn."

Swiftly she went over what he meant in her mind, wondering whether she'd forgotten something important. No, not that she could recall. It wasn't their wedding, that had been a few months previously. Nor the anniversary of the first time they slept together, at the time of another wedding, Kaylee and Simon's in that case. Or the date he'd figured he'd made her pregnant with Ben. Or … "Okay," she said, putting the plate down. "What anniversary?"

He grinned, slightly lopsided, his untidy brown hair making a sort of halo around his head in the subdued light. "The first time you smiled at me."

She sighed. He did this, taking any particular moment of their relationship and making it special. It was, of course, but most people didn't go to quite those lengths. "I smiled at you."

"Mmn." He sat down next to her. "I was in the cargo bay, you were up on the catwalk. I made some joke or other, and you smiled."

"Are you sure it wasn't gas?"

"No. A smile. A real, unadulterated grin."

"I must have forgotten myself."

"I never did." He held out the box again. "Here. In memory of that moment when I thought maybe I wasn't just pissing in the wind, and you'd be mine." He laughed at the look on her face. "Sorry. Bad turn of phrase. But it was special, important to me." He nudged her. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Wiping her fingers on her pants, she took the box, made of thin strips of wood, covered with sticky paper, stylised drawings of sun-filled landscapes all over it, and the words _Mi Jian_ in Chinese printed on top. She glanced up at Hank sharply. "Candied fruit?"

He grinned. "Sweet things for my sweet thing."

"Is this what you were out getting today?"

"It was."

She shook her head. "Spending good money on frivolities … you should know better."

"They're your favourites."

"I know, but –"

"Look, if you don't want them, that's fine. I can take them back, or maybe Simon would like to buy them off me for Kaylee –" He reached for the box but she jerked it out his hand.

"I didn't say I didn't want them. Just making a point."

"Point made. And they weren't that expensive."

"So now I'm not worth much?"

He shook his head and lay back on the bed, staring into Serenity's superstructure. "I can't win, can I? First I'm spending too much, then I'm being cheap."

She went down onto one elbow, looking at him, seeing all the love he had glowing in his grey eyes. "Not cheap. But you don't have to buy me things."

"I want to." He turned his head enough to gaze at her. "Zoe, if I had the money I'd buy you the moon of your choice, build you a house with a whole arsenal of servants, a fleet of ships, all the clothes and jewellery your heart could desire …" He stopped because she'd put her finger on his lips.

"Now that would be a waste. I don't need a whole moon, or lots of servants, and as for ships … I think we're already on board the best one."

"Even though you once told Mal you thought it was _fei-oo_?"

"Even though I said that." She smiled. "Hank, you are one strange man, but I love you. And buying me things won't change that."

"I like it. Buying you stuff, I mean. Especially candied fruits. The way you eat them, with your eyes fluttering like they do, it makes me go all …"

"All what?"

"Goosebumpy."

"Really."

"Really."

"Then maybe we should put them away for another day."

"Oh, no," he said, lifting himself up so their lips were only inches apart. "They're to eat now. With me watching."

"Only watching?"

"Well, there is this trick I know …" He whispered in her ear, and she laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

"This is not a good idea," Freya said, walking along with her hands in her pockets.

"We're just honest citizens," Mal pointed out. "All we're doing is accompanying a prospective candidate to the Election office."

Zoe, half a pace ahead of them, glanced over her shoulder. "You don't have to come, sir."

"And have you sneaking off? I don't think so."

"I don't sneak."

"Good."

"And I don't think that's what Freya was talking about, sir."

"I wasn't," the woman in question agreed. "I meant your plan."

Mal smiled. "Frey, honey, we're just taking a walk. Besides, this place needs its pomposity pricked."

The night before, he'd explained what he and Zoe had been planning on their walk back from Lacey's and their meeting with Leo Gunn, and for a moment, just as he was at his most vulnerable by getting naked, he thought she was going to get angry with him. Instead she just sighed.

"Mal, why can't we just let Kaylee do her thing, let Zoe do her thing, and leave?"

"Because this is my thing." He'd slipped under the covers and pulled her to him, feeling her body relax against him, her chin resting on his chest.

"Your thing is getting shot," she pointed out.

"Not always."

"Most of the time."

"No, now, that's not –"

"Do you want me to get River to work out the math?"

He looked down at her, her face lifted towards his, her eyes dark in the dim glow of the night light. "Is this 'cause I had me a drink?"

"No."

"Frey ..."

She dipped her head, laying it back in the crook of his shoulder. "Maybe."

"I only had a couple."

"I know."

"Then what's the ... oh." He realised, albeit belatedly, as her fingers traced the scar on his chest. He put his hand on hers, holding it steady. "Frey, I wouldn't do anything stupid. Well, not any more stupid than normal," he revised quickly. "I stopped taking those pills Simon gave me half a week back, and he said I could have a drink again. So I had a couple. That's all. It ain't gonna kill me."

She didn't speak for a long moment, then she whispered, "I worry about you."

He squeezed her tighter against him. "It's right you should. You love me. That kinda goes with the territory. Just like I worry about you."

"You do?"

"All the time, Frey. All the time."

"Oh."

"And that worrying's gonna make sure this plan of mine works the way it should, _dong mah_?"

She looked up at him, one eyebrow raised a little. "You're sure about that, are you?" He laughed, and she could feel it through his chest.

"_Xin gan_, I'm positive." He leaned down and ran his lips across hers, intending to show her just how sure he was.

Now, though, as they walked through the clean and tidy streets amongst people hurrying about their own business, she had that look on her face, the one he knew all too well.

"Wanting to prick a whole planet's pomposity is one thing, Mal. Getting bound is another."

He shook his head. "Not intending that, Frey."

"Hmmn."

"Is that your usual _hmmn_?"

"Probably."

"Oh, good." Freya didn't have time to comment on the irony in his voice before he nodded ahead of them. "Leo's already here." He sounded almost surprised.

A man stood outside the Election office, under the banner billowing from the windows. "Morning!" he called as they approached. "And who's this beautiful young lady?"

Freya couldn't help the slight smile. "Mr Gunn, I presume."

"At your pleasure."

Mal stepped forward. "This is my wife, Freya." He put more than necessary emphasis on _wife_.

Gunn shook his head. "Gorramit, how come all the pretty ones are taken?"

"Do you try that line with everyone?" Freya asked, letting her mind just touch his aura.

"Only if they're female." Gunn grinned. "Don't seem to work with the men."

"I wonder why."

Gunn laughed at her dry tone then looked at Mal. "Got the deposit?"

Mal nodded. "We've managed to scrape it together."

"Like I told you, you get it back at the end of proceedings."

"Just so long as we do. Cash don't exactly grow on trees."

"Things that bad out in the borders?"

"For some." Mal paused, once more wondering about this man, then went on. "We've got friends, put some work our way, and some enemies who do the same. But it's getting tighter all the time."

"Yeah, I heard about the extra patrols and stuff the Alliance is putting on. Some of it's okay, a'course, like the new relays. Makes it easier for folks to keep in touch. But the new cruisers coming off the line … Not too good for smuggling, eh?"

Mal fixed him with a serious eye. "We're not smugglers, Leo."

"No. Course not. Sorry I suggested it." Except he didn't look sorry at all. Quite the opposite, in fact, as if he'd learned something new and interesting.

"We're just a transport. Nothing else."

"Sure." He scratched his cheek. "Not like I'm gonna be telling no-one anyway, one way or the other."

"Shiny." Mal took a step towards the door to the Election office, but Leo put up a hand to stop him.

"No, you stay outside. There's no need for the pair of you to come in too."

"Not even for moral support?" Freya asked.

"Better not. They might not take kindly to a whole procession traipsing into the offices." Leo twinkled slightly. "Might think you've got something to hide in the safety of numbers. Which you ain't, of course."

"Of course not," Mal agreed, mentally crossing his fingers. "And we do have a couple of errands to run." He looked at his first mate. "See you back at the ship."

"Yes, sir."

Something in her voice made Gunn put his head onto one side. "Look, if you don't really wanna do this you only gotta –"

Zoe interrupted. "Oh, I do."

Gunn chuckled. "Ain't had a woman say that to me in a long time. Not since my wife up and left me for another man."

"When was this?"

"'Bout fifteen years ago. But I still miss her. Mainly when I have to do the cooking, the cleaning …"

"Then I think this planet needs me," Zoe said, settling her shoulders. "Shall we?"

"No problem." He held out his arm, crooked at the elbow, and with some reluctance she slipped her hand through it. He patted it. "Don't you fret none," he added. "This is the easy part."

"Easy?"

He didn't answer, just grinned and led her inside.

"We've got errands?" Freya asked, turning to her husband.

"Thought we might perhaps go and see about opening a bank account." He smiled.

"Mal …"

"What?" He looked at her with his wide-open, innocent blue eyes. Yeah, right. "Just wanna take a look."

"As long as that's all it is."

"You know, you're not as much fun as you used to be," he complained, walking away from the offices.

"You mean since I had two kids and got married?"

"Wrong order there, _ai ren_."

"Mal, the things we've been through in the last months … I'm honestly surprised we've all survived, and I don't think we should be putting ourselves in the way of more danger."

"And in the last few months we've seen Niska dead, Mara Tam stopped –"

"Simon up to his elbows in your chest," she put in.

"And we've even had some fun," he finished, ignoring her interruption. "Seen Matty get married, Kaylee bein' pregnant again … It kinda evens out."

"Then can we not tip it the other way?" Freya implored.

He glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. "That's pretty much why I'm looking at the possibility of getting a little cash behind us. If we can maybe settle someplace for a month or two, not have to look for work, it'll give Kaylee's babe a good start in life, and mean we can rest up and recuperate. But we can't do that without funds." He watched her think about it, and could name the exact moment when she realised he was right. He grinned.

"Just because I can see your point doesn't mean I think it's a good idea," she said, poking him in the belly with a straight, hard finger.

"Frey, I promise, I ain't gonna do anything unless it looks right."

"Hmmn."

"That the same _hmmn _as before?"

"Definitely."

He laughed, tugging her towards him and wrapping his arm around her waist. After a moment her hand settled on his other hip. "So," he went on as they headed towards the proudly named _First National Bank of Jericho Wells_, just a couple of hundred yards off. "What did you think of him?"

"Leo?"

"Mmn."

"Actually, he sort of reminds me of you."

He managed shock very well. "I'm insulted."

"Don't be. I don't mean physically or anything, but … he has a rather fluid approach to ownership."

"You mean he's a thief?"

"No. Not …" She was finding it hard to put into words.

He led her to a bench under a tree, the sun making dappled patterns on the painted wood. "You just tell me what you saw, and I'll try and make sense of it," he suggested, understanding her from long experience.

"I'll try." She sat down, waiting until he joined her, watching the people pass by. They seemed well-dressed, well-fed, all intent on getting from one place to another, with as little personal interaction as possible, and it grated on her psyche. Some of the border moons might lack amenities, might be starving or running dry, but at least everyone looked out for each other.

"So?" Mal encouraged.

She didn't know where to begin, so just let the words flow. "He's … unique. Everyone else is so tightly controlled it … well, it hurts. Not just walls, but broken glass along the top, and landmines around the base."

Despite the fact that she sounded like River on one of her off days, Mal nodded supportively. "But Leo's not like that."

"No." She went over the impressions she had got from the older man. "Maybe it's because he wasn't born here, but he's retained something of a rebellious nature."

"I kinda got that from speaking to him for five minutes."

"He was telling the truth about not fighting in the war, but I think he gave some other kind of support to the Independents. And he's not above jerking the establishment's chain once in a while."

Mal grinned. "Sounds almost familiar."

"Mmn. I did wonder if there was a Reynolds in his background at all."

"Not intending to ask." He sat back, his head slightly tilted so he could feel the warmth of the day against his face. "Anything else?"

"He's honest. At least in as much as you can trust him over this."

"How far?" When she didn't answer immediately he turned to look at her. She was biting her lip slightly. "Frey?"

"I don't know. I don't think he'd hand us in, but I'd be careful."

"Kaylee thinks he's a good man."

"Kaylee thinks everyone's good, until they come up and prove otherwise."

"True." He took a deep breath, holding it, then slowly letting it out through his nose. "Okay. We keep him at arm's length. Don't get him any more involved than he is already."

"I think that's wise."

He chuckled. "Hey, I can be. Once in a while." He stood up and held out his hand. "Still got to get to the bank, _xin gan_."

She sighed.

* * *

"Leo, what the hell are you doing here?" asked the man behind the desk in the relative shadows of the Election office.

Gunn cleared his throat. "I'm here to nominate someone."

The man rather impolitely laughed. "You are? I thought you hated elections."

"I do, Cromwell." Leo drew himself up to his full height, still a head shorter than the woman standing next to him. "But I felt like maybe I should do something right, for once. You know, before I shuffle off this mortal coil of ours."

Cromwell obviously didn't believe him. "You planning on doing that any time soon?"

"Not if I can help it. But there comes a time when a man –"

Cromwell interrupted him. "That's all very well, but you know I don't like things being done in this manner."

"I know. But the law's the law. And it states a person can be nominated by any member of the community up to and including not less than –"

"I know the law, Leo," Cromwell interrupted. "That still doesn't mean I approve."

"Got no choice."

"No." His eyes travelled to his companion. "And you are?"

She took half a step forwards. "Zoe Mills. I'm the one wanting to stand."

"What for?" He looked her up and down, noting the workmanlike clothes, the stoic expression on her face, the air of menace about her, and it made him wonder if she was a screamer.

Zoe felt like she wanted to go and shower, or perhaps punch someone, preferably him, but maybe this was the best time to start as she meant to go on. "Women's rights."

He pulled his eyes away from her and checked his system. "Looks like you're in luck."

"Good."

He glanced up, not sure whether she was being facetious or not, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. "ID?" She hooked it from the pocket of her waistcoat and passed it across. He slid it into the reader on his desk, then said sharply. "You were in the war?"

"I was."

"An independent."

"Someone had to be."

His expression veered towards the unpleasant. "We don't like trouble on Jericho. Particularly not Independent trouble."

"I don't intend to make any. But I'm within my rights."

"And this doesn't give a permanent place of residence. I'm afraid I can't –"

"Yes, you can," Leo put in quickly. "You know Jericho considers anyone as touching the ground during elections is a resident. Don't matter about whether they were born here or came down accidental. So there's no reason not to put her name down."

Cromwell glared at Gunn, then tapped the screen again. "You've never claimed the pension."

"Never wanted it," Zoe said, keeping her voice low.

"You should consider it. You're entitled."

It was difficult not to say what she really wanted to shout into this jumped up little official's face. No-one she'd ever met had claimed the pension, at least not on the brown side of the war. They knew it meant the Alliance would be able to keep track of them, knowing what they were doing, when they were doing it, and quite probably why. They might have lost, but some things were going too far. "I'll think about it," she finally responded.

"Good." Cromwell obviously decided he'd had enough of these two, and rummaged in the desk drawer to pull out a flimsy. "Here's the schedule of meetings. You've already missed –"

"Meetings?"

Cromwell shook the paper. "Of course. You have to put your case before all interested parties, and that won't be easy, not with only a few days to go."

Zoe took the leaflet, staring down at it. "Right."

"In fact, first one's tonight. It won't take me more than ten minutes to fill in all your details, then you're ready."

"Tonight."

"That's it. Down at the town hall. I imagine it's going to be pretty full, considering."

"Considering what?"

Cromwell laughed, but it wasn't nice. "Oh, I think you'll find out. And I hope you've got a damn good speech written. We've very fussy about these sort of things."

_That I figured already,_ Zoe thought to herself, and wondered if it was too late to persuade Mal to have the operation after all.


	8. Chapter 8

"Honey?" Hank peered into the kitchen, hearing someone throwing things around and swearing. Only he was finding it hard to believe it was Zoe, even from the voice. Maybe River was teasing him. Or perhaps Jayne had learned ventriloquism, even if he couldn't spell it. Or even Simon, having caught himself somewhere tender down in the infirmary and then come upstairs to get a palliative cup of coffee. "Is that you?"

Zoe leaned over the counter and glared at him. "Who else would it be?"

He decided not to go through the various options that had passed across his mind. Instead he smiled. "How did it go?"

She didn't answer, just pulled back and started slamming the cupboard doors again.

Ah. That good. Fine. In fact, shiny. Perhaps it was time to go and get the body armour out. Wondering whether this was in fact anything like a good idea, he stepped down into the galley and sat at the table, his arms on the old wood, hands clasped lightly in front of him.

It took almost a minute for her to notice him.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing." He smiled a little. "Just waiting."

"What for?"

"My wife to come back. Do you think she'll be long?"

The look on Zoe's face almost ignited his clothing, then it softened, and she finally gave a small grin and shook her head. "I think she's on her way."

He was glad to have diffused … whatever it was. "Good."

"Sorry."

"No need to apologise. I too occasionally feel the need to turn the air blue and chuck a few things at the wall. Although I tend to do it on the bridge, with the door locked so no-one can hear me. And I clean up afterwards too."

She glanced around the kitchen area. "I don't think I broke anything."

"It didn't sound like it was through lack of trying."

She chuckled, a welcome sound that warmed him through. "I know."

"So would you like to tell your husband what the matter is?"

"I suppose." She rounded the end of the counter and sat next to him.

His chair squealed as he moved it closer so that their thighs and hips were touching. "Better," he said softly. "Now, tell Hank so he can kiss it better." He suited the word to the deed and brushed his lips across her cheek.

Her lips curved briefly, but it wasn't for long. "I have to give a speech."

"What, for the election? Well, that's no problem. Voting day isn't until the 6th, so we can –"

"Tonight."

He raised his eyebrows. "Tonight?"

"Gotta be there at 6." She pulled the leaflet from her pocket, pressing it flat against the table top.

He read the introduction quickly.

_**Campaigner for Women's Rights**_

_In order that the good citizens of Jericho Wells should have the opportunity of meeting with the candidates for the above post, a series of meetings have been ordered. Each of the candidates in turn will explain their reasons for standing, then there will be the chance for the general populace of Jericho Wells to put their questions. In this particular instance, and for the minor positions only, the general rule regarding the minimum of twenty-one days notice for each question will be in abeyance._

_Meetings will be held in the Town Hall, and will start at 6.30 pm precisely. Candidates must report to the relevant election officer by 6.00 pm. No drinking or smoking on the premises. No communication devices allowed. No swearing. Suitable clothing will be worn._

_Jericho Wells wishes each candidate the very best of luck._

Below was a list of half a dozen dates, four of which had already passed, one was that very evening, and the last was the night before the election itself.

"No swearing, huh?" he said finally. "Not sure you'll be able to manage that. Not on recent showing."

"I was mad."

"And what do you think they mean by suitable clothing?"

"A dress," River said, stepping down into the kitchen from the bridge corridor. "Or at least a skirt."

"Somethin' slinky?" Jayne asked, following her.

"Not suitable," his wife said.

"Would be for me." He grimaced as she elbowed him in the belly.

"A dress." Zoe's voice was calm, but it was a stillness suggesting imminent irritability.

"Or a skirt. Either." River sat down at the end of the table in Mal's chair. "I'm sure Frey could find something. One of Dillon's, perhaps."

"Why would my delightful and delectable Zoe need to wear a dress, pumpkin?" Hank asked.

"Zoe's gonna wear a dress?" Kaylee appeared at the other end of the galley. Simon was only a moment behind, ready to catch her if she slipped climbing awkwardly down the steps.

"No, I'm not," the woman in question said.

Hank held up the leaflet. "But it says –"

"I know what it says. But I ain't wearing a dress."

"What's going on?" Simon asked, but everyone ignored him.

"Moonbrain?" Jayne looked at River for explanation.

The young psychic sighed. "The men of Jericho Wells are … backward. They believe a woman's place is in the home, specifically the kitchen or the bedroom. They do _not_ believe in women's rights."

"But they're holding elections for a women's rights campaigner," Hank pointed out.

"Lip service. The Alliance says they have to, so they are." River shrugged. "But it doesn't mean they have to like it."

"Surely they can't be as … old-fashioned as that, _mei-mei_?" Simon said, going behind the counter to get Kaylee a glass of milk as she lowered herself into a seat.

"Haven't you seen outside? Not one woman is wearing pants."

Everyone thought back to when they were 'chasing' Ethan, and they came to the same conclusion, some faster than others – women on the streets certainly, but all in skirts, long ones at that.

"Gorramit, she's right," Jayne breathed for all of them.

"They need Zoe to stand up for them," River went on. "But to do it, she must wear a dress."

"And give a speech," Hank added.

Zoe sighed heavily.

"That true?" Jayne asked. "You gonna be speechifying?"

"Looks like," Zoe admitted.

"What're you gonna say?"

She sighed again, even heavier if that was possible. "I have no idea."

"We can help," River said. Everyone looked at her, then at Jayne. She laughed. "No. Me and Simon."

Jayne made a great show of wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "Not that I'd'a minded, a'course," he declared. "I know a few jokes'd go down well. I can tell you a few if'n you'd like."

"No, thanks," Zoe said quickly, knowing exactly the kind of things the big ex-merc found amusing.

"Then Simon and I will assist." River smiled widely. "Simon was a leading light of the debating club."

Simon went paler than normal, spilling some of the milk on his hand. "No, _mei-mei_, I'm sure they don't want to hear about that."

"I do," Kaylee chirped.

Jayne's face screwed up somewhat. "Debating club? What's that when it's at home?"

"Where people take it in turns to argue," River explained.

Jayne grunted a laugh. "Sounds like this boat sometimes."

"Oh, no. There are rules. No-one can interrupt anyone else, and people have an allotted time to make their point."

"Don't sound like arguing. Anyone get hit?"

"Not … usually." For some reason she glanced at her brother.

"That was one time, _mei-mei_," Simon said hurriedly, handing Kaylee the milk and sitting next to her. "And it wasn't my fault. Just because Ferdie MacLeish didn't take kindly to my reasoned contention. And he hit me first."

"You broke his nose."

Jayne guffawed. "Good for you, doc."

"I'm not proud of it," Simon insisted, even as a light tide of pink coloured his cheeks.

"Of course you were," his sister said. "You went around with a head as big as the Osiris Stadium for weeks."

"I'm sure that Ferdie person deserved it," Kaylee put in, gallantly stepping up to the plate for her husband.

"I thought he did." Simon smiled ruefully. "And my father wasn't at all pleased."

"I get the feeling you spent more time being a normal kid than you've let on," Jayne said, smiling broadly.

"I was young. And sometimes hot-headed. I grew out of it."

River sighed. "Yes, he did. He became a boob instead."

"Brat." Simon shook his head at her.

She grinned at him, then turned back to Zoe. "Anyway, as I said, Simon and I can write your speech –"

"'N' I'll add in a joke or two," Jayne offered.

"– and you'll be fine," River finished.

"I can write it myself."

"Sure you can," Hank said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "So after they're done you can make it yours, take out some of the long words nobody's going to understand, and the obscenities …" For some reason he glanced at Jayne. "You'll do fine, sweetheart."

"Now go and find something suitable to wear, while Simon and I get started." River waved her hands at the first mate. "Go on."

Kaylee stood up, more than a little unsteady. "I'll help ya," she said, licking a ring of milk from her mouth. "I know I've got a few things might do, else I'm sure Frey could find something. Or …" Her eyes lit up. "We can go shopping!"

Mal had once said to Zoe that he'd found himself sighing a lot more now he was married and had kids, so he'd had to find another way of regarding it, and had taken to thinking of it as exhaling with meaning. Right now she considered he had the right of it as more air escaped her lips. She stood up. "Let's see what we have first."

"Shiny!" Kaylee led the way towards the bunks, Zoe following on, shaking her head.

"You think they need a man's point of view?" Hank wondered aloud, watching them leave.

"A good idea," River said. "You won't let Zoe wear anything too revealing."

"Zoe? Revealing?" He paused for a moment, then was on his feet. "You're right." He was out of his chair and up the steps in a heartbeat.

Simon chuckled. "I think I've got a pen and some paper in the infirmary," he said, standing up. "Don't start without me." He walked out the other way.

As Simon's footsteps echoed up the stairs, Jayne leaned against River slightly and said, "So you think Mal might take on the idea of a debating club?" He grinned. "You know, all them rules and regulations you were talking about – might make it easier for him to tell us what to do."

She swatted him with the flat of her hand. "I think the Captain would be an excellent debater. He would be able to put his case clearly and succinctly."

"Yeah, then threaten anyone who disagreed with the airlock."

"Threaten who with the airlock?" Mal asked, stepping down into the galley, Freya right behind him.

"Anyone as didn't do what you said, Mal," Jayne explained.

"Sounds about right." He looked at his albatross. "How'd you get onto this subject in the first place?"

River smiled. "Zoe has to give a speech. Tonight."

"And we're gonna write it," Jayne added.

Mal laughed out loud and rubbed his hands together. "Sounds like a plan."

"Better than the one about the bank, anyway," Freya muttered, but nobody heard. She exhaled with meaning.

* * *

"I feel ridiculous," Zoe said for the tenth time.

"You look wonderful," Hank said for the eleventh.

They were outside the Town Hall, and they could hear the clock above gearing up to strike 6.00 pm.

Zoe smoothed the dark tan dress Kaylee had finally persuaded her to buy down her thighs, wishing it was her normal pants. Wishing she had her gun on her. Wishing she was just somewhere else entirely.

"You should wear a dress more often," Hank went on. "Shows off your great legs. Not, you know, too much of them, but enough so that everyone can see you have them. Great legs, I mean." At her look he backpedalled a little. "Not that anyone else is going to see them. Apart from me."

"At this rate, not even you."

He smiled, taking her hands in his. "Honey, you'll do fine. I'll be in the audience, backing you up. And Mal and Frey'll be there, giving you moral support. Jayne said he'd be along too, so River could watch through his eyes. And Kaylee said she would, but she's got that part to bed down before supper."

"I know, Hank. I was there when she said it."

He chuckled. "Of course you were. I just wasn't sure you were taking it in."

She was about to make a sharp retort, some comment on the fact that she was perfectly capable of doing more than one thing at once, when she saw the warmth in his grey eyes, the love shining clearly through. "I went through a war," she eventually said, her voice quiet enough that he had to strain to hear. "A peace that ain't been peaceful more than a week at a time. Seen things happen a body shouldn't be made to see, and I've come through the other side. Yet this … knowing I have to stand up in front of a load of strangers and give a speech I didn't write …"

He squeezed her hands, feeling the wedding ring on her finger pressing into his palm. "Zoe, it's alright to be scared. I am. All the time."

"I'm not you."

"Which is a good thing, otherwise it'd be icky and would've been really messy when Ben was born." He grinned. "You're so much stronger than me. And I know you've never shown anyone fear in your life. Not even Mal."

"I don't know about that. Maybe once or twice."

"But I'm your husband. I'm allowed. You can be as afraid with me as you want." He paused. "Okay, that didn't quite come out right, but you know what I mean. You don't have to be strong and silent all the time. Not _all_ the time."

"I don't know why I feel like this," she admitted.

"Because you feel guilty. Guilty about feeling nervous. That you shouldn't be, 'cause this is nothing, compared to that war you talked about." He stepped closer, pulling her to him so they were hip to hip, chest to breast. "I bet you were scared, during the war, though. Scared for your men, for Mal … but never for yourself."

She found herself nodding. "I knew Mal would pull us through."

"Even when you lost?"

"Even then." She had, too. It was one of the reasons she'd stayed with him, all these years. Because no matter how broken up on the inside he was, no matter how much of his own soul he thought he'd lost, he still cared.

"Only now it doesn't matter if you lose."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter if you lose. That's the point. Even if you won, we wouldn't be staying. You're doing all this … wearing a dress, making a speech … for one reason, and one reason only. And it ain't to be voted women's rights campaigner." He smiled. "And I think that's why you're scared. Because it isn't life or death. It's just a means to an end. And you still wanna do it right."

She stared at him. "When did you become so insightful?" she asked finally.

The smile became a grin, the one that made her heart do little flip-flops in her chest. "Must be the company I keep."

"I guess it must." They leaned in to kiss.

The clock above them chimed the hour, and the door opened.

"Ms Mills?" It was Cromwell, the election officer from earlier in the day. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up. Of course, that would mean your deposit would be forfeit, but … well, here you are."

Zoe looked into Hank's eyes one more time. Then she straightened her shoulders and turned to Cromwell. "Yes. Here I am."

He looked her up and down, as if trying to find something to be disapproving of, and his face turned even more sour when he couldn't. "Good. Come with me."

Zoe felt Hank run his fingers down the inside of her wrist, then she strode inside, her boots making solid sounds on the wood block flooring.

Cromwell led the way further into the building, along corridors, then stopped outside a panelled door.

"This it?" she asked, her stoic mask firmly back in place.

"It is." Cromwell opened the door, ushering Zoe through.

Inside the small room, almost silhouettes against the tall window, were four women, looking at her with expressions of distaste, distrust and downright resentment. Only the woman on the far right had anything else on her face, and that was puzzlement.

"Zoe Mills," Cromwell announced, then leaned in towards her ear, raising the hair on her neck with his breath. "Meet your opponents."


	9. Chapter 9

"Hi." The puzzled young woman stood up, trying a smile on for size. She was about Kaylee's height and weight, but more curvy, going in at the waist as if she was cinched. Her hair was lighter, too, almost blonde but not quite. "I'm Mercy. Mercy Fischer. And please, no jokes about my name. I've heard them all, I promise."

"Zoe Mills. Like the man said." Cromwell had melted away, but she was sure he was just outside the door, listening.

Mercy glanced down at Zoe's left hand, at the ring prominent against her dark skin. "You married?"

"Yes."

She chuckled. "Only one of us that is, then. I guess your husband's a bit more … advanced than the rest of 'em."

"Hank's okay." More than okay, she thought, but wasn't about to say.

"Well, I guess I'd better make the introductions. Since no-one else seems inclined to say anything." She glared at the other women.

"It isn't like we have to, Mercy," said the one sitting down. "And I don't see how come there has to be another candidate anyway."

"Because it's the law." It sounded like a conversation that had been held before, at least from the suppressed sigh in the young woman's voice. "You know that. Mr Cromwell explained, didn't he?"

"And he didn't exactly sound overly pleased, neither."

"That man doesn't sound overly pleased about anything," Mercy said, a flash of irritation in her tone. "I don't know how his wife puts up with him."

The woman standing by the window with her arms crossed, made a harsh sound in her throat. "Like the rest of us do. Or like we would, if we were the kind of women men'd marry." She sniffed hard. "And I don't see you saying anything to his face, either."

Mercy sighed, and turned back to Zoe. "We're okay, really. It's just … some of us take a bit more getting used to than others." She smiled. "Like I said, my name's Mercy." She pointed to the seated woman. "That's Polly Adams. Paulette, really, but everyone calls her Polly."

Polly Adams, her thin face made even thinner by the way her reddish-brown hair was caught back into a bun, revealing a high forehead, nodded briefly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." She couldn't have sounded more like she was lying if she'd tried, and her lips snapped shut at the end of the sentence.

"Likewise," Zoe said.

"And that's Sarah Cordell." Mercy indicated the woman by the window. "She was married, but her husband up and died a year or so ago, leaving her with a couple of kids to bring up."

"She doesn't need our life histories," Sarah said, looking back out of the window and ignoring Zoe. "Just like we don't need to know hers."

There was Chinese somewhere in her ancestry, Zoe decided, from her delicate bone structure and slightly hooded eyes. Her hair, cut very short, was black, and what there was of her figure was almost anorexic.

Mercy sighed. "Sarah, it pays to be polite."

"No. It doesn't."

Mercy looked at Zoe. "I'm sorry. We're not exactly giving you a very good impression."

"That's okay," Zoe said. "I'm sure I'd feel the same way about a stranger coming in like this."

"Oh, we don't really know each other. Not really." Mercy smiled again. "We only really know what we've told Mr Cromwell, to put in the leaflets," she explained. "I think Bea's the only one actually comes from Jericho Wells. The rest of us … we're from other places round about."

"Bea?"

"Me. Beatrice Jarvis." The last woman pushed away from the wall, where she'd been leaning. She was tall, as tall as Zoe, although heavier set, and most of that was muscle. She looked like she'd been earning her living in a physical manner all her life. "Born and bred." She put her hands on her hips. "Okay?"

"Sure." Zoe didn't back down, just gazing at the other woman until she muttered something unintelligible and went back to propping up the wall. _Oh, this is gonna go great_, Zoe found herself thinking.

* * *

"This should be good," Mal said, letting Freya go ahead of him down the stairs into the cargo bay.

"I'm not sure Zoe's thinking about it that way," his wife said, glancing back at him.

"Zoe's gonna do fine," Kaylee said firmly, leaning on the railings of the catwalk as best she could, wiping her hands on an already greasy rag. "She's never been backwards in saying what she thinks."

Mal stopped, having to smile up at her. "_Xiao mei-mei_, I'm not so sure about that. Zoe's always played things pretty close to her chest, far as I can see. And I've known her a lot longer'n you." He continued on to the floor, and almost walked into Freya.

"Yeah, but she's always told you when she thinks what you're planning is a bad idea," his dearly beloved said.

"And I've listened." At her raised eyebrow, he went on quickly, "Okay. I might not have done anything different. But I listened."

"Yes. And look where it's got you."

He grinned. "Yeah. A loving wife and family."

She glared at him. "That won't get you out of it."

Mal pulled her closer. "Of course it will."

Kaylee giggled.

Jayne's footsteps rang through the bay as he exited the shuttle. "I told you I would, didn't I?" he was saying. "And I wasn't planning on falling asleep anyway."

"I was just mentioning it," River said, following him. "Otherwise I will have to look through someone else's eyes, and the Captain wouldn't like that."

"No more I would, albatross," Mal said, putting a mock stern look on his face. "Feelin' you tiptoeing around in there … like an itch I can't scratch."

"I don't look at things I shouldn't." She thought for a moment. "Much."

"That's better. Best tell the truth, young lady, else you'll be setting that boy of yours a bad example."

Caleb was on her hip, playing with her hair. "Mama," he said, putting a lock of it into his mouth and chewing happily.

"Besides, I thought you were helping Kaylee with those parts?" Mal said.

"I was."

"She was, Cap," Kaylee confirmed quickly. "Her and Frey both. I was just fiddling with a couple of things."

"What kinda things, and does it entail getting into tight places?"

"Never you mind, and no, it don't."

"Kaylee …"

The young mechanic rolled her eyes. "Cap, I was just making sure the grav boot was settled in right, 'fore we can get on with the couplers tomorrow. Shouldn't take more'n another half an hour, tops."

"Well, you see it doesn't."

"And then I'm going to make sure she gets clean and has something to eat," Simon said, coming out of the common area doorway and looking up at his wife.

"Well, make the most of the showers while you can, since we might be back on short ration once we leave," Mal pointed out.

"And there I was thinking we could save water now and take one together," Kaylee said, a wide grin on her face as she looked meaningfully at her own husband.

"And there _I_ was thinking it was only Frey who had these urges at eight months gone." Mal shook his head. "Whatever you do, you make sure to keep an eye on the kids. I don't see this affair going on too long, but you never know."

* * *

"So, how did you come to decide you wanted to stand for office?" Mercy asked, sitting down on the long sofa and patting it in the universal signal for Zoe to join her.

Doing as she was told, Serenity's first mate pulled her dress around her knees. "Felt like I had to do my bit."

"You're not from around here, then?"

"No. I was born on a freighter. In space."

An odd, almost wistful look spread over Mercy's face. "Space." She sighed. "I always wanted to travel, see different places, meet all kinds of new people."

"Nothing to stop you," Zoe said.

The wistfulness vanished. "I couldn't do that," Mercy said, dismissing the idea. "Where would I go?"

"Anywhere."

"No." Mercy shook her head. "Best to make do with what we have." She smiled. "And you didn't really tell me anything."

_Well, I'm standing for office so that we can break into the Cortex database and fool it into thinking Simon and River don't exist. Except if I say that, she'll think I'm even more crazy than I _know_ I am._ Zoe took a deep breath, and lied. "Sometimes a woman feels she has something more to give," she said. "To make a difference."

"Here?" Sarah Cordell scoffed. "Lady, you're in the wrong place if you think that's going to happen."

"It's an official post," Zoe said slowly. "How can't it make a difference?"

"Oh, lots of ways."

"Sarah," Polly Adams warned, her face still set and tight.

"Well, we all know it. I don't know why we're still involved in this farce."

"Because we need the cash," Bea Jarvis said bluntly. "You know that's the only reason why we're standing."

"Cash?" Zoe echoed.

"The salary," Mercy explained. "Whoever's elected gets a decent stipend, at least for the length of office, and they can take on their own staff." She glanced around the other women. "It's kind of traditional for the defeated candidates to get those jobs."

"I see." Zoe did, and it didn't make her current view of Jericho Wells' society any better. "So how come there's only four of you? I thought there was supposed to be five candidates for each post."

"There was." Sarah pushed away from the wall.

"Olive Drexler," Mercy confirmed. "She had to drop out."

"How come?"

The four women glanced at each other, and Zoe could tell that, even if they didn't know each other that well, there was a kinship there. It might only last for these few days, but they were connected, set apart from everyone else. She'd seen it in the war, when young men and women were thrown together and became a fighting unit because someone else was trying to kill them. Maybe it wasn't quite so firm, and they weren't likely to ever form the kind of friendship she'd made with Mal, but it was a link, nevertheless, and one she needed to be careful of.

"She … got hurt," Mercy said softly.

"Her husband beat her up until she had to go to hospital," Bea expanded, then added on the looks she was getting, "We were all thinking it. Someone had to say it."

"Mr Cromwell said she fell down the stairs," Polly said, her lips tightening even more into just a thin line.

"Yeah. Then she got up and did it again."

"Did he get bound?" Zoe asked.

Sarah laughed. "Of course not. She didn't even swear out a complaint against him."

"Why not? The _hwoon dahn_ shouldn't be allowed to get away with it."

Polly Adams tightened her mouth even more at the cursing, but Mercy merely shrugged. "It's just how things are done here on Jericho."

Mal had mentioned how he was beginning to hate that phrase, and Zoe was beginning to agree with him.

* * *

"So, how is she?" Mal asked as he and Freya walked through the still warm, leafy streets of Jericho Wells, Jayne a few steps behind.

"Zoe?"

"Uh huh." He slipped his arm around his wife's waist, and felt her reciprocate.

"She's … well, if it was anyone else I'd say she was nervous. And … angry."

Mal smiled. "Now the second I can understand, but the first? I kinda find that hard to believe. Though I recall when she married Hank … but who wouldn't be nervous about to say 'I do' to him?"

She pinched him lightly. "Hank is a great guy."

"Did I say he wasn't?" He looked askance at her. "You know, I've always been a mite suspicious of you and Simon, but maybe it's my pilot I need to be keeping an eye on."

"And there I was thinking we'd been careful."

"Not enough, _xin gan_." He leaned down to brush his lips across her cheek, but felt her stiffen slightly. "What?"

She was looking around. "They don't like public displays of affection."

His eyebrows rose as he caught the expressions of the people passing by. "You feel that?" he asked, keeping his voice low enough so only she could hear.

She nodded slowly, lowering her defences just a shade. "Their antagonism. Resentment. Uncomfortable to the point of –"

"Frey." He pulled her around so he could look into her eyes directly. "You stop peekin' right now and you come on back to me."

She looked a little shamefaced. "Sorry."

"Not your fault." He glanced around. "So if'n I kissed you properly …"

"There'd probably be a riot."

"Sounds like a plan." He smiled and pulled her closer, crushing his mouth onto hers, hearing more than one sharp intake of breath from someone who then hurried on, probably disgusted and appalled.

"Damn it, Mal, you gotta do that in public?" Jayne complained, and Mal could feel Freya laughing.

"Yes," Serenity's captain said shortly as he came up for air. "And I still get nightmares over what I got an eyeful of when I caught you and River doing … what it was you were doing when we were on Midas last." He shuddered dramatically.

"Aw, come on. You know I can't say no to my moonbrain."

"Try. Particularly out where anyone can see you."

Jayne grumbled under his breath, and the only words that were audible were mostly Chinese and obscene. Then he said clearly, "You know there ain't no whorehouses here, don't yah?"

Mal glared at him. "And you'd know that … how?"

"Looked it up. Closest is half a continent away."

"Now, bearing in mind you've got a wife and child back on board Serenity, think before you answer this next question. Why would you be wanting a whorehouse?"

Jayne kicked at the dirt. "Not wanting. Just saying. Don't never trust a place where there ain't none."

Mal didn't respond, even though he privately agreed with the big man. It wasn't that he had ever frequented such places – well, not since he was first in the Independent army, anyway, and that was a story he hoped Freya would never find out – but somewhere that didn't accept the baser instincts of some men tended to have odd ideas about other things too. "Well, just keep it in mind that we're only gonna be here for a few more days. Then we can shake the dust of Jericho Wells from our heels and never think on this place again."

"Can't be soon enough, Mal."

They continued on their way towards the Town Hall, aware of Freya's warmth against his side. He smiled at her. "So what's Zoe angry about?"

"I'm not sure. Someone told me to stop peeking."

He laughed. "So I did." A yawn caught him without warning, and his mouth opened wide before he had time to cover it with his hand. "Sorry," he said when he had it back under control.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her hazel eyes studying his face closely. "It's been a long day –"

"And it ain't getting any shorter."

"– and you didn't nap this afternoon," she finished, ignoring his interruption.

"And whose fault was that?"

"I was busy helping Kaylee, remember? With that grav boot. So we can fly out of here when your grand plan succeeds."

"Not my plan, _ai ren_. Mostly River's." He smiled. "'Sides, you know I don't sleep well without you next to me. Something about that side of the bed being all cold and bare … ain't natural. Just can't seem to drop off."

"You tell Kaylee she's gotta be truthful," Jayne muttered from behind them, "but there you are lying through your teeth. You know damn well whatever you're doing in the afternoons in your bunk it ain't sleeping."

"Jayne, the septic vat needs doing."

The big man speeded up to walk alongside. "Fine. I'll do it. Just so's I can have the pleasure of tellin' you what we all know. And what we know is you're worse than me'n'River, even the doc and Kaylee. In fact, you'd give a pair of cats in heat a run for their money." He lengthened his stride and moved ahead.

"Is it me or is Jayne getting more fractious lately?" Mal said surprisingly mildly, watching his gunhand marching along.

"Lack of weaponry," Freya said succinctly.

"That it?"

"Mmn."

"Remind me to put him in the front line next time we get shot at."

Freya laughed. "Now you know River won't like that."

"Hell, she'd be next to him."

The Town Hall came in sight, and there was a surprising number of people milling around outside the rather grand building. Jayne had already pushed through the crowd and gone inside, but there was another familiar figure watching them arrive. Leo Gunn, in his best striped shirt and pressed pants.

"Leo," Mal said, nodding just the once.

"Mal." Leo grinned. "You're surprised I'm here, ain't you?"

"Curious."

"Hell, I ain't gonna let an opportunity like this go by. It's been a month of Sundays since there was the prospect of any kind of ruckus."

"What makes you think there's gonna be today?"

The scrap merchant let out a wheezy chuckle. "I've met your second, remember? I doubt she's gonna take any crap from the likes of this lot." He jerked his head over his shoulder towards the good folk of Jericho Wells. "And they're gonna offer it, believe me."

Mal glanced at Freya, who suddenly looked more serious, and felt something crawl up his own spine. "Well, best be getting to our seats."

"I'll be in the back," Leo said. "Making sure no-one locks up the doors before the Alliance gets here." He laughed again, highly amused at his own joke as he strolled inside.

Mal couldn't help the lift to his lips. "It might all be an act, but I kinda like that man," he murmured, then put his hand in the small of Freya's back to urge her to follow.

Jayne had found seats about a third of the way back by being intimidating, thus relieving a little of the tension from his body. He waved at the others to join him.

"Where's Hank?" Freya asked, her eyes scanning the crowd.

"Front row," Jayne said, just as she found him. "He looks like he's been here a while."

Hank had sunk down in his seat, his arms crossed, legs stretched out, giving a very respectable impression of a man asleep.

Mal shook his head. "I'd've thought he'd be a mite more interested in the proceedings."

"He's not asleep," Freya said. "He's trying to send Zoe all his energy."

"Really?"

"Yes." She sat down, easing her back against the wooden seat.

"So he's catching it off you and River?"

For some reason Jayne sniggered under his breath, just as a man stepped out onto the stage at the end of the hall.

"Good citizens of Jericho Wells," he said smugly, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Please take your seats. We are about to begin."


	10. Chapter 10

"Ladies, it's time." Cromwell stood in the open doorway, something of a smirk on his face. "I hope you've all made friends, because I have to say, I don't like the look of the crowd outside."

Sarah Cordell snorted. "They can't be as bad as the last lot."

The smirk became something nastier. "I wouldn't like to say."

Zoe stood up. "Better get this over with." She patted her pocket. Inside was the script, in River's very best handwriting, since she'd announced Simon's was like trying to read an inebriated snail. It was logical, coherent, and totally without any jokes – Freya had seen to that, having to battle hard against Mal and Jayne in the process.

Mercy nodded, getting to her feet. "They're not bad folk, Zoe," she said in a low aside. "Just … unenlightened."

"Are they likely to get enlightened?"

"By election day?" Mercy chuckled. "I doubt it."

"Then we'd better see what we can do." Zoe smiled and wrapped the other woman's arm over hers.

Startled, Mercy stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. "Yes. Let's."

Zoe noticed, but didn't comment on, the look that passed between Sarah and Bea, while Polly merely tutted.

They all followed Cromwell down the maze of corridors again, ending up outside a green baize covered door.

"Stay together," the man instructed. "I will introduce you, then you come onto the stage and sit down."

"Just like before," Bea said. "Just get on with it."

Cromwell glared at her, then led the way into the backstage area. He stepped through the curtains and they heard his voice. "Good citizens of Jericho Wells, please take your seats. We are about to begin."

There was the sound of feet stomping on wooden floor, chairs being pulled into position, then relative silence, broken only by the odd cough and sniff.

Cromwell spoke again. "This is the last but one meeting to enable you to put your questions to the candidates for campaigner for women's rights. The last will be held the night before the election, so if you haven't made up your mind by that time, make sure you attend." He paused. "If we're ready … the first nominee is Paulette Adams."

Polly pulled her dress straight and stepped up onto the stage. There was some desultory clapping which soon faded away.

"Next is Sarah Cordell."

The same thing occurred, although the clapping was slightly longer and louder. He quickly introduced Mercy, then Bea, but only the former got any more appreciation.

"And finally, we have a fifth candidate. I know this is the first time you'll have been able to interrogate her, so make sure you have some hard questions. An off-worlder come to show us how it's done, Zoe Mills."

Zoe stepped up onto the stage, wondering if she shouldn't bow or curtsey after that decidedly lukewarm introduction, but she decided sarcasm of her own wasn't an answer to his, and just sat down next to Bea. She looked around the audience, easily seeing Mal and Freya about five rows back, Jayne on the outside of them. They looked expectant, and she felt her tension ease a little. Freya nodded at her, and she had to suppress a grin. The psychic had probably read her mind.

Her eyes settled on Hank, right at the front. He was smiling slightly, that oddly worried one he used when he was afraid perhaps he'd done something wrong and she was going to be mad with him. _Not your fault, baby_, she thought, trying to make him understand. _I blame River._

Freya coughed suddenly, covering what sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Definitely peeking.

"Damn," Mal muttered.

_Don't tell me_, he heard without benefit of using his ears. _You seeing Zoe in that dress has made you change your mind and you want her now and not me._

_Absolutely._ He moved his foot quickly out of the way before she could squash his toes. "I just ain't used to seeing her like that," he said softly. "All … feminine."

"In those boots?"

Mal shrugged slightly. "True." His lips twitched. "But there are some people who like that kind of thing."

"Reckon they pay extra," Jayne put in.

Cromwell hadn't quite finished. "As usual you will have the opportunity to ask any of our candidates questions, then they will put their case as to why they think you should vote for them." He stepped back, his hand up, indicating the ladies sitting behind him. "First of all, your questions for Paulette."

"That ain't the way things should be done," Jayne grumbled. "Ain't that the wrong way round?"

"I agree," Freya whispered. "But then I don't think anyone here on Jericho does things the way we expect."

The first woman stood up, coming to the front of the stage.

The audience, split about fifty-fifty between men and women, seemed more than disinterested, and a deep, dark, angry blush was starting to colour Ms Adams' face.

"Woman's gonna have apoplexy 'fore they're through," Mal muttered, getting to his feet. "I got a question," he said, his voice easily carrying to the corners of the hall.

"Go ahead," Cromwell said.

Mal nodded down at Freya. "Me and my wife are newcomers to this town, and I guess I'd like to ask just what you think Jericho Wells has to offer us."

Polly cleared her throat. "We're clean, and respectable. I'm sure you've seen how many of the other moons and planets in this system are just havens of vice and iniquity. I like to think Jericho is a shining beacon in an increasingly wicked 'verse, and Jericho Wells is the light that beats back the darkness."

Jayne's mouth had dropped open. "People actually talk like that?" he stage-whispered, then grunted as Freya's elbow caught his ribs.

"And how do you think Jericho Wells should be lighting the way in women's rights in this sector?" Mal went on, ignoring the by-play next to him.

"By encouraging all women to be church-going and God-fearing, to believe in the sanctity of marriage, and in supporting their husbands in their every endeavour."

Mal stared at her for a moment, then said, "Thanks," before sitting down, noting one or two of the men nodding their heads.

"I trust that answered your question?" Cromwell inquired from the side of the stage.

Mal waved his hand. "More than enough."

"Good." He looked around the audience. "Next?"

Someone at the back stood up and asked something, but none of Serenity's crew were taking much notice.

"Is it just me, or are they crazy here?" Mal murmured.

"Crazy, Mal," Jayne concurred. "Told you. No whorehouses."

"As much as I wish I could disagree, I don't," Freya whispered.

"Permaybehaps it's something in the water," Mal said, lowering his face so only she heard.

"Better stick to beer, then."

He smiled at her, and turned his attention back to the matter in hand. Apparently it was obvious there weren't going to be any other questions, because Cromwell invited Ms Adams to give her speech, which seemed to be pretty much on the same lines as the answers she'd already given.

"Thank you, Paulette," Cromwell said as she sat down, a single person clapping, quickly stifled. "And now Sarah Cordell."

A tall, thin woman got to her feet, looking at the crowd as if they were an enemy to be defeated.

"And who has a question?"

People looked at each other. A woman went to stand, but her husband pulled her back into her seat, glaring at her for even attempting to put herself forward.

"Well, this isn't going to take long," Freya mused.

"Mmn," Mal responded.

Unfortunately, it took long enough, with many of the people getting restless by the time they got to Zoe.

Cromwell clapped his hands together. "Well, I'm sure Ms Jarvis here got her message across." He smiled, putting Mal in mind of a snake oil salesman he'd met once on Tiberius. "And finally, we have Zoe Mills."

The audience suddenly took notice. This was obviously why they'd turned up.

Jayne reached for a gun that wasn't at his hip, and soothed himself by leaning harder on the chair so he could feel the sheath of his knife at the small of his back.

"As you'll have seen from the flyers at the entrance, Zoe is a war veteran, and I'm sure you have some interesting questions on that very subject," Cromwell said.

"Mal, can I shoot him later?" Jayne asked.

"I'll keep it in mind." Mal turned to Freya. "And what flyers?"

She sighed, holding out a flimsy. "I hoped you wouldn't see this."

He took it from her and scanned it quickly. "Gorramit," he swore. "You think Zoe's read it?"

"I don't think so. The man's still in one piece."

"Not sure about Hank, though." Mal had seen the pilot perched on the edge of his seat, and from what he could see of his face the man wasn't exactly happy.

Zoe had stood up and approached the front of the stage, her hands loose at her sides. She appeared relaxed, but it was the kind of relaxed that could change sides at any moment.

Several hands had gone up, and Cromwell almost grinned. "Ah, that's more like it." He pointed at a man in the second row. "Feargal, what do you have to say for yourself?"

The man got up, grinned at his cronies. "Well, I was wondering if Zoe here is married."

"She is."

"In which case, that's a pity. 'Cause she'd surely warm a man's bed for him."

There was general laughter, mostly from the men in the audience. Hank was almost on his feet, but suddenly sat back, glancing sharply at Freya.

"Did you do that?" Mal whispered.

Freya nodded. "I told him to settle down," she admitted. "I think I shocked him."

"Don't doubt you did, _ai ren_. Hearing voices like that."

"Just the one, _zhang fu_."

Zoe had settled herself, her gaze unblinking. "He does fine," she said clearly. "If he's been good."

This time the laughter was from the women.

"So you withhold your wifely affections if he don't give in to your wiles?" Feargal asked.

"I would, but being as I'm a red-blooded woman, that wouldn't be fair on either of us," Zoe replied.

More laughter, and Feargal sat back, knowing he'd been beaten.

Cromwell had a face like thunder. "Yes, well," he said. "I hope some of you have more serious questions."

"What does your husband think of this, you standing for election?" This was from a man about half-way back, a small dark-skinned woman at his side.

"Why not ask him for yourself?" Zoe said.

Hank stood up slowly and cleared his throat twice before being able to say, "I'm behind her, all the way. Just like she is for me."

"Don't that make you a wimp?"

"No."

"Ain't you master in your own house?" His wife was trying to make him be quiet, but he shook her off.

"We're equals," Hank said, his voice strengthening. "Isn't that how it's supposed to be? Why we're all here?"

"A woman's got her place, and it's not in politics," the man said. "We all know that, and anyone who says otherwise is either a fool or looking to be walked all over."

"Oddly enough, I wouldn't have married a fool," Zoe interrupted, her voice suspiciously calm. "And I didn't want a man who wouldn't stand up to me. But I don't get walked over either." She smiled at Hank, who sat down.

Mal could feel Freya's tension through where they touched. "Breathe," he urged.

"They're all so _cai bao zi_," she said quietly.

"I know it, Frey. But you still gotta breathe." He took her hand. "At least they ain't asked anything really stupid yet."

"I think you might have spoken too soon." Freya half-turned in her seat.

Cromwell pointed to a man by the windows, a couple of rows behind them. "Gilbert. Go ahead."

Gilbert, almost as wide as he was tall, managed to get to his feet. "You were an Independent."

It wasn't a question, but Zoe nodded. "I was."

"Got scooped up at Serenity Valley."

"Yes."

"How do you justify killing good Alliance soldiers?"

Zoe paused for about half a millisecond. "Well, they were trying to kill us."

There was another wave of laughter, mostly feminine by the sound, but it was shushed by all the menfolk.

"I'm asking you a proper question, girly," Gilbert said, stabbing a pointed finger at her in emphasis. "I'd appreciate a proper answer."

"Girly?" Jayne repeated, seeing the possibility of violence on the far distant horizon.

Zoe nodded slowly, as if agreeing with Gilbert. "I believed in freedom. Still do. I guess that's why I'm standing for this position."

"And that's why you turned coat?"

The pause this time stretched until it was so tight it could have snapped with an audible sound. "Turned coat?" Zoe asked finally.

Gilbert waved the flyer. "Says here you were in the Alliance army. But you deserted, joined the other side." He looked around at the rest of the audience. "What makes you think we want your kind around here?"

"My kind?"

"Traitors."

"Oh oh." Mal tightened his grip on Freya's fingers.

She looked around at him. "What?"

Mal knew that look. He'd seen it on Zoe before, although the majority of people wouldn't have noticed anything different, just her usual stoic, implacable gaze. But there was a whole wealth of meaning in the slight tightening of the skin around her eyes, the tiniest thinning of her lips …

"Zoe, no," Hank murmured, recognising the signs himself.

"Is she likely to …" Freya didn't need to finish.

Mal nodded. That look usually meant trouble. Actually, what it usually meant was someone was going to end up dead, or at the very least severely inconvenienced. "You know, maybe we should –" But it was already too late.

Zoe had taken a deep breath, releasing it through her nostrils very slowly, her fingers touching the speech in her pocket, and knowing she wasn't going to be using it. Now she spoke clearly, every word carefully enunciated.

"I fought a war on the principle that all people were equal, whether they lived in the Core or out on the Rim. That nobody had the right to tell them what to do, what to think, what to say … And then I come here and I find that's exactly what you're doing with your womenfolk."

She looked around the hall, making eye contact with each and every male resident of Jericho Wells.

"What side I was on is irrelevant, at least in this case. It ain't what colour you wear that makes a person act any particular way. Even the Core planets don't treat women like you do. Now I'm the last to say they're at all open-minded, but compared to you they're as wide as the Osiris Canyon."

Cromwell moved forward, but met with the thousand-watt glare that had bigger men than him quaking in their boots.

Zoe turned back to the crowd. "Your women are afraid of you. Afraid to be who they are. Afraid that if they say or do the wrong thing, you'll throw them down the stairs." She could feel her heart beginning to pound, her fingers itching to wrap around a trigger. "Well, that's gonna stop. Right here. Right now. Women's rights are what they say – the right for a woman not to be beholden to a man unless she wants to be, unless it's a mutual decision. And I plan to win this election to make sure of it."

She turned around and went to sit back down, barely acknowledging the stunned looks on her opponents' faces as the audience erupted, the men all trying to complain the loudest, the women taking surreptitious glances at each other.

Cromwell held up his hands, trying to stop the ensuing uproar, but it was like trying to put out an inferno with a sieve.

"Well, he did ask," Freya said, shaking her head.

* * *

As Zoe stepped back on board Serenity, she was ambushed by two women, one of them heavily pregnant.

"I'm so proud of you!" Kaylee gushed, hugging her friend as tightly as her belly would allow.

"What?"

"Standing up to those _jing tzahng mei yong duh_ idiots!" She grinned widely at Mal. "Ain't she great?"

"I conjure, on that showing, I'd have to agree, _xiao mei-mei_," Mal said, his own lips curved.

"How did you …" Zoe caught sight of the look on River's face. "Ah."

"I told them," the young psychic said, smiling widely. "Blow by blow."

"She didn't hit anybody, River," Freya put in.

"I would have."

"I think it was pretty close," Jayne added, stepping up to his wife and putting his arm around her waist. "And I'd'a held her coat."

Simon, standing in the background, shook his head, grinning nevertheless. "And after all our hard work on your speech."

"I'll save it," Zoe promised. "For next time."

Hank laughed. "Somehow I don't think that's going to happen."

"Have to," River said, planting a kiss on the pilot's cheek. "That's when we become bad guys again and break into the Election offices."

The pilot looked surprised. "I'd almost forgotten."

"But first, we have step two."

"Which is?"

"We go and take a look around the building itself. To get a look at the layout, and see how I will get in."

"Now, albatross –" Mal began, while Simon's raised voice spoke over him.

"You're not going to –"

"Yes, I am," River interrupted. "Zoe's doing her thing, and I'll do mine."

"River –"

"_Mei-mei_ –"

Jayne chuckled as the captain and the brother did their best to remonstrate. "That's my moonbrain," he said proudly.


	11. Chapter 11

Breakfast the next morning was pretty much taken up with further discussion of the meeting the evening before, although by the end of it Zoe wanted to walk out of Serenity and never look back. Well, almost. It was only Hank's warm thigh pressed up against hers that made her hold her tongue, to not tell everyone – particularly Kaylee – that she wished she'd never said anything, hadn't let her emotions get the better of her, but listening to those women on the stage, the men below … something had snapped.

Her parents had never treated each other like that, and neither had Mal, right from the moment they met. Then first with Wash and now with Hank it had never been an issue, and in all honesty she didn't see how anyone could stand for it, male or female alike. And yet ... and yet here they were, a whole gorram planet. And she was just playing a part until they could leave again. It didn't feel right.

She concentrated on her food, and even then hardly tasting it.

Mal caught the darkness of her mood, and glanced at Freya. _She okay?_ he thought carefully.

For once his wife didn't answer, just shrugged slightly. He was taken aback, but even without her input he had an inkling of what might be wrong with his first mate, and determined to see what he could do about it. _Frey, am I right?_

_Leave it, Mal_.

_She's my friend._

_Mine too. I'm just … if you're going to do this then … tread carefully._

_Always do._

Her eyebrow raised a millimetre, and he took a mouthful of hot oat cereal to hide the smile.

As everyone finished, he stood up from the table. "Okay," he said. "You got jobs, go do 'em, else I'll find you something to do." He looked at the children. "And you'd better get your school work together, since there've been way too many skiving days lately."

"Uncle Mal …" Bethie whined. "Wanted to go play outside."

"Not right now. And not without someone being with you to supervise ever. This ain't the kind of planet looks kindly on children running around, not that I've seen."

"Uncle Mal –"

"Bethie." Her father spoke her name, and immediately she quietened down, but it didn't stop her kicking her feet against the table leg.

"Honey, don't," Kaylee said, smiling at her daughter. "How about, before Frey takes you through your lessons, you help me get out that little recording thingie I made a while back, see if we can't get it working 'fore I have to get ready?"

"Are you planning on going?" Mal asked, honestly surprised.

"Me, River and Zoe," the young mechanic agreed.

Mal held up a hand. "Now, I don't think that's such a good plan. River I can understand, but you're …" He gestured towards her belly, rising above the top of the table.

"I ain't planning on going into labour, if that's what you're worried about." She grinned. "But there might just be a little bit of false pains, just as a distraction."

"It's all right, Mal," Simon put in. "It won't do her any harm, as long as she's sensible."

"And when ain't I sensible?" she asked, turning on him.

"I couldn't possibly imagine," he said, hardly a trace of irony in his voice. "Besides, I'm coming too."

"Whoa, now, no, doc," Mal said quickly. "It's bad enough your sis has to go, and believe me if there was a way round it, she wouldn't be setting foot outside. But I ain't putting you at risk too. Supposing something happens, and the authorities decide to scan you?"

"Nothing's going to happen."

"And you can swear to that, can you?"

"Well, no, of course not, but –"

"I'm going," Jayne said, climbing to his feet and picking up his and River's plates. "Ain't going inside, but I'll be watching. Nothing's gonna happen while I'm around."

Simon still didn't look very happy, but Kaylee patted him on the arm. "I'll be fine, honey. No-one's gonna bother Jayne, you know that."

The doctor glanced at his brother-in-law, knowing Kaylee was speaking the exact truth, but it didn't mean he had to like it. "I suppose."

"Anyway," Hank added, "you've got to count all your supplies, make sure you've got enough for our inevitably wounded Captain." Mal glared at him, and he suddenly found interest in the last scrapings in his bowl.

"No-one's getting hurt," Mal said firmly. "Not even a splinter. All everyone has to do is stick to the plan, and nothing'll go wrong."

"Plans," River said, lifting Caleb onto the floor where he stood holding onto her dress.

"What?"

"Plans. Plural. A multiple of one. Although technically a multiple of one is still one, but in this event more than."

Mal narrowed his eyes at her. "Albatross, I don't mind you correcting me, but do you have to be quite so pedantic about it? Especially since, as far as I can see, they're both parts of the same plan."

"Semantic."

"River."

She smiled and kicked the table leg, just like Bethie had done.

"Sometimes I wonder if I fetched up on a boatful of kids," Hank muttered, getting to his feet. "I'm going to be on the bridge, in case anybody needs me."

"Doing what?" Mal wanted to know.

"Checking the Cortex. Might be we don't have to go to all this trouble if I can bring up schematics on the Election building."

"Good idea," Mal said, nodding in surprise. His gaze shifted to his first mate. "Zo? You wanna help dry, since I'm on clean-up this morning and Kaylee's gonna be a while?"

"Of course." She started to stack the remaining crockery.

_Mal._

He looked at his wife. _What?_

_Just … be careful. And keep her away from sharp objects._

His brows drew together as he watched her usher Ethan and Jesse out of the room, the rest of the crew following. Sometimes he wondered why she didn't trust him.

_Experience._

"Huh."

Zoe looked oddly at him, but he just smiled.

It didn't take long before they had the plates in the sink, the cereal pan already soaking, and he was ready to broach the somewhat delicate subject.

"You wanna talk about it?" He realised he didn't have that much authority at the moment, not a man up to his elbows in soapy water, but this was Zoe. She'd seen him every which way there was, and some he wished there weren't.

"Not particularly." She scrubbed at the plate with the cloth, giving it a gloss like it was brand new. At least she hadn't asked what it was she didn't want to talk about.

"Only there used to be a pattern on that once upon a time."

She looked down at the perfectly plain china, then glared at him. "I'm shiny, sir."

"Okay." He ran the brush around the inside of a glass, then decided he didn't have that much in the way of breakable crockery anymore, so handed her a tin mug instead. "Only I think you're thinking this place needs you. Or someone like you."

"They need something. I can't decide whether it's a strong person to speak for those weaker, or maybe a small nuke."

He smiled, but kept his head down so she couldn't see. "Well, since we don't have the latter, and you're not staying …" He left the sentence hanging.

She didn't speak, just put the mug carefully on top of the plate, the sound seeming to fill the kitchen area.

"You're not, are you?" This time he turned around, ignoring the water running off his hands onto the floor.

Zoe looked at him, and for a long moment he wasn't sure what she was thinking. She'd considered leaving before, he knew that. After Wash died, for certain, then he was pretty sure she'd thought about it again when she was pregnant with Ben, but at least with the last it wasn't really anything solid. If that had been the case she'd have talked to him about it, and she hadn't. Frey had picked up on the stray feelings, but that was about all.

"Zoe? You wanna answer me before I come over all kinds of concerned?"

She took a breath, then another. "No, Mal. I'm not staying on Jericho. My life … my home is here. But these people, these women … they need someone who isn't afraid all the time."

He felt a stab of gratitude when she used his given name. She did it so rarely it always meant something deeper, something that much more personal. "And you think that's you."

"No. I get afraid a lot. But maybe I just hide it better."

He picked up a towel and wiped his hands. "Zoe, you're the bravest person I've ever met. And I mean person, whether they're male, female, or one of those who ain't decided yet. You got me through things most people would've turned tail and run from, and I owe you pretty much everything."

"That much."

"Yeah." He leaned back on the counter. "Zoe, if'n you're that upset by all this, we'll find another way."

"There isn't one, sir. River made that perfectly clear." She shook her head. "Besides, if I stood down you'd lose the deposit, and we can't afford to waste a hundred credits."

"Can't honestly afford to waste ten right now."

"So we'll carry on as we are."

He looked at her, the friend who had got him through so much. "Maybe there's some way we can … I don't know, maybe make things better for the women here. If we put our heads together."

"I don't see how." She'd been thinking about it. "Perhaps what I said yesterday might have lit a spark in some of them, but …"

"No guarantee."

"No, sir."

"Eats at you, don't it?" he asked. "Not being able to do the right thing."

She picked up another plate and started to dry. "We're just playing at this, but these folks have to live here when we've gone. I know I ain't gonna be elected – that's pretty much a given. But …"

"But you want to do your best."

"Yes."

"Then maybe you should do some real campaigning. You know, get out there, let folks know what you believe in, what you stand for. There weren't but a coupla hundred people there last night, and even if they each went and told a hundred more, that won't get it around Jericho the way it should."

She had paused, staring at the soap suds as if she could see the future in them. "You think?"

"Hey, it ain't up to me. I'm not standing for election. But if I were you … yeah, I think maybe I would. There's time enough before voting day for you to make a difference."

"You honestly think I could?"

He put his hand on her arm. "I know you, Zoe. Given a long enough time and the right weapons, I think you could take over Parliament."

She finally cracked a smile. "I don't think I want to do that, sir."

"No, well, neither would I. Not without that nuke we mentioned. But this little piece of nothing out here … maybe we could start something."

She looked into his blue eyes, seeing the man who had believed they could win against the great Alliance looking back at her. She chuckled. "You know, River says it only takes a single snowflake to start an avalanche."

"Or a small stone a rockslide." He nudged her. "Wanna?"

"Yes."

"Good." He grinned. "But we'd better finish this washing up first, before my wife tans my backside for neglecting our duties."

"We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"Well, not 'til I can relax and enjoy it."

* * *

Kaylee was happy to be outside, feeling the sun on her skin, the warmth making the slight ache in her back easier to bear. "It's kinda nice here, don't you think?" she said, smiling at a woman passing them by, and receiving nothing but a glare in response. "Although the folks could do with bein' a mite friendlier."

River stopped counting the leaves on the trees and concentrated back on her sister-in-law. "They're afraid."

Kaylee's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hair. "Of us?"

"Of anyone new. Different."

"And there I was thinking it was my sparkling personality," Zoe said dryly.

"You impressed people yesterday," River pointed out.

Kaylee looked as if she was about to be effusive again, so the first mate went on quickly, "Yesterday and today are different things entirely. Besides, we're here." She looked up at the Election offices.

"You got the doodad?" Kaylee asked River.

"Here." The young woman patted the pocket in her floral dress.

"Hopefully it won't set off any alarms, seeing as it's a passive scanner, but if it does you tip me the wink and I'll go into early labour."

"I won't need it," River said. "I'll remember."

"Humour us," Zoe instructed. She glanced over her shoulder. "Where's Jayne?"

River didn't look. "Behind the church halfway down the street. He's wishing we'd get on with it."

"He ain't the only one. Come on." She led the way inside.

* * *

"Come on," Ethan said. "Race you."

Ben and Hope scrambled from their chairs, glad lessons were over for the day, Jesse following a little slower. There might be homework to do later, but now it was time for fun and games.

"Don't run!" Freya called as they headed out of the kitchen area, more in hope than expecting them to listen to her.

"Yes, Mama!" Ethan shouted back, his little feet pounding down the metal staircase towards the cargo bay.

Freya shook her head, a smile on her face as she put the portable Cortex link away, then realised Bethie was still sitting at the table behind her.

"Don't you want to go play?" she asked, closing the cupboard. "You're usually the first out of the gate."

"Wanted to ask something."

Freya smiled, looking at the little girl. "Go ahead, Bethie."

"What exactly is a 'lection?"

"An election."

"Yes."

Freya sat down. "Well …" She explained, not worrying too much about using long words, since she knew Bethie would understand, and if she didn't she'd ask. "Did that make sense?"

"Mmn."

"Why did you want to know?"

"No reason," the little girl said guilelessly. "Just wondered."

"We can look it up tomorrow, if you like. I was going to do a lesson on it later on anyway, but I can easily bring it forward. There have been some interesting ones in the last hundred years or so. I remember finding it fascinating when I was a girl."

"P'raps." Bethie thought for a moment. "Was Uncle Mal 'lected?"

Freya smiled. "No, he wasn't elected."

"But he tells people what to do."

"That's different. This is his boat."

"Bought and paid for."

"Exactly."

"So can people buy 'lections?"

Now Freya knew she was deliberately dropping the 'e' to be cute, and she was content to let her get away with it for a little while longer, at least until she'd figured out what the little Tam was up to. "Yes, Bethie, they can. But it's not right, not in a free 'verse. The people who get elected, they represent everyone else, so they should be honest."

"Like Uncle Mal."

Freya had to stop herself from chuckling. "Yes. Like Uncle Mal."

"I see."

Freya could see wheels turning, thoughts ticking over, but she wasn't going to peek. That would make finding out in the natural course of things a lot less fun. "Is there anything else you wanted to know?"

"No." Bethie got down from her chair. "Thank you." She started for the doorway.

"Bethie?"

"Yes, Auntie Frey?"

"Whatever it is, no-one's to get hurt, okay?"

"Okay, Auntie Frey." Bethie gave her a wide smile and disappeared.

For a long moment Freya sat staring into nothing much, then shook her head. She was going to have control, if it killed her. People didn't like their thoughts intruded on, to know someone had run naked through their innermost secrets, and besides, Bethie would know. Better to let it take its natural course.

She picked up the instructions Kaylee had left for her, written in a rounded, easy-to-read script. This was _her_ homework, with a mock-up of the part in the engine room for when she felt ready for the practical application. She sighed and started to read_. 'Locate the inhibitor pin into the G-valve and give it a good strong turn to the left. It will lock. If it doesn't, you have to …'_

She sighed again. It was going to be a long day.


	12. Chapter 12

They'd been waiting for over an hour, sitting in the side room staring at the portraits on the walls.

"Who'd you reckon they are?" Kaylee had stage-whispered after five minutes.

Zoe shrugged. "Mayors, or suchlike. Maybe Parliamentary representatives."

River studied one of the pictures close up, her nose almost touching the canvas. "Founding father. Willikins O'Toole. The first man to discover the water that gives Jericho Wells its name. Born –"

"You can figure that out from looking at the brushstrokes?" Kaylee asked, as always slightly in awe of the younger woman's abilities.

"No." She moved to one side so they could see a small plaque on the bottom of the frame. "I read it."

Kaylee laughed a little ruefully. "More fool me."

River sat back down next to her sister-in-law and gave her a hug. "No. But in this case the simplest explanation is the right one."

Ten minutes after that …

"No-one ever has."

Zoe looked around in surprise at River, as she answered a question nobody had asked. "Has what?"

"Campaigned."

Zoe shouldn't have been surprised that the young Reader had been listening in to her and Mal's conversation. "Were you …?" She touched her temple.

"Heard with my ears. I was outside the door."

"You mean you were eavesdropping."

"Everyone on the crew does it. It's traditional." River leaned over, saying very quietly, "You were thinking about how to go about it."

"Maybe I was."

"Nobody has ever campaigned in Jericho Wells."

"No? Why not?"

River shrugged. "It's always been a foregone conclusion. One candidate is very like another, with nothing to choose between them."

"And now?"

"More variables." She smiled. "Not to win, but … I'll have to consider."

"What's this?" Kaylee asked, looking from one to the other, her eyes finally lighting on Zoe. "You gonna campaign?"

"I've been thinking about it."

"Good." The young mechanic smiled. "Don't wanna waste that speech."

"We'll help," River promised.

"Um … thanks." For once Zoe wasn't sure whether that was going to be a good thing or not. "Is it in the rules?"

"Yes. You can set up a booth in the town square, with banners, leaflets, all sorts of things. I'm sure Kaylee can make a loudspeaker for you."

"Sure I can," Kaylee said, already beginning to plan the equipment.

"You read them?" Zoe asked. "The rules, I mean. All of them?"

"I was wakeful last night," River admitted. "Jayne was asleep after sex so I looked them up."

"Right."

"They were quite interesting."

"Of course they were."

"And helpful."

"Mmn."

A quarter of an hour later …

"I gotta pee," Kaylee said, fidgeting in her chair.

"Not sure they've got facilities." Zoe was sympathetic, though, remembering her own pregnancy. "Can you hold it?"

"Do I have to?"

"Think about deserts," River suggested. "Lots of sand. Desiccated trees. Hot sunshine on the back of your neck."

"Okay, now I'm thirsty too." Kaylee struggled to her feet. "But I still need to pee. I'm gonna have to find someplace."

"First on the left, then the second right."

Kaylee narrowed her eyes at the young psychic. "Don't tell me, you saw a sign."

"No. I _saw_ someone just going in there." She placed emphasis on the word 'saw', knowing they would get her meaning, but that nobody else would if they were listening.

"Oh." Kaylee smiled. "Shiny." She waddled to the door then looked back at her sister-in-law. "You comin'?"

"I don't need to go."

"Think of seas. Oceans. Rainfall pitter pattering on the bridge windows and slip sliding down towards the ground …"

River shifted uncomfortably. "That's low," she said accusingly.

"Sure is."

"Fine." She got up. "I don't understand why women have to go to the toilet in convoys anyway."

Kaylee linked her arm through River's. "It's traditional," she said, grinning as they left the room.

Zoe shook her head, an indulgent smile on her face.

After another twenty minutes had dragged by …

"This is getting ridiculous." The smile had gone, and her friends knew the look in her eye. "I'm going to find –"

At that moment the door opened, and a familiar figure bustled through.

"Yes?" Cromwell asked peremptorily. "I'm very busy. What do you want?"

Zoe got to her feet. "I'm sure you remember me."

He looked closer and his face soured. "Of course. Ms Mills."

"Mrs."

"What?"

"It's Mrs Zoe Mills."

"What of it?"

"Never mind." She moved closer. "I've come to take up some of my rights as an official candidate in these elections."

"What?" He realised he was sounding stupid, because he glared at her, saying, "What rights are these, in particular?"

"I believe it's my privilege to check over the database of electors."

His mouth dropped open. "That's … nobody's ever done that."

"But it's in the regulations."

"Well, yes, but –"

"Any person standing for election can request to see that list, yes?"

"I –"

"Well, I'm asking."

It was like watching a poker game, Kaylee decided afterwards. Each of them not wanting to back down, to lose their stake, but neither knowing the strength of the other's hand.

Cromwell tried to gather himself. "Well, I suppose … if you'd like to come back tomorrow –"

"No. Now."

River stepped forward, raising the ante. "The Union of Allied Planets Rules for Parliamentary Elections, Article 22, section 2, sub-section 15, paragraph 8, sub-paragraph 1d states that –"

"I know the law!" Cromwell was almost beside himself.

"Then you know Zoe is well within her rights, and if you refuse she can complain to the Parliamentary Overseer, who in turn will sever your tenure, and quite possibly have you bound and sent to a penal colony of his choice for an indeterminate length of –"

He glared at this slip of a woman in front of him. "Don't you go telling me what I can and can't do, young lady."

"Then I'll fetch the local Alliance Commander, and we'll see what he has to say."

Kaylee held her breath as River bluffed.

Cromwell glared. "He'd be behind me, as a duly appointed official of the Election."

"Do you really want to test that?"

The man didn't speak for a long moment, although his jaw was working as if words were trying to come out, but he was holding them back. Eventually he threw up his hands. "Fine! It will take some time, but I'll have a print-off prepared and –"

"No," Zoe put in, dragging the pot towards her. "On screen. In the main office. As is my entitlement."

Kaylee had never seen anyone die from an aneurysm, although in one of his less romantic moments Simon had explained that people could, particularly if they had raised blood pressure, but it seemed like the odds were coming down in favour of that happening right now.

Cromwell's lips tightened until they looked like they were going to snap. "All right." He turned on his heel. "This way."

* * *

Mal sat in the open entrance to the cargo bay on one of the ever-present crates and watched as the kids played what was probably a game of tag amongst the stacks and cages, although from the noise they were making it could have been war. At one point Ben tackled Ethan and took him down in a tangle of arms and legs, and for a moment Mal held his breath until his son got up, laughing, pulling his friend with him.

Simon smiled. "They won't get hurt, Mal," he said, leaning against the wall. "And if they do I'm here."

"Still rather not have you having to patch any of 'em up."

"All children get scrapes and grazes."

"Oh, I know that. When I was their age there didn't seem to be a day went by when I wasn't wearing a weave on some part of me or other. My Ma must've gotten fed up dispensing first aid all the time."

Bethie tagged Hope, who squealed and turned fast enough to tag her back, then ran straight into Jesse, both of them ending up on the floor.

"It doesn't help much, though, does it?" Simon asked, watching them climb back to their feet just as Hope got tagged again.

"Nope." Mal laughed quietly. "I guess it's what being a parent's all about."

"Excuse me?" A voice carried in from outside.

Mal stood up. A young woman was standing in the sunshine, her features and curvy shape somewhat familiar. "Can I help you?"

"I was … I was looking for Zoe. Zoe Mills, that is."

Mal stepped onto the ramp and smiled. "You're Mercy Fischer, ain't you?"

"Yes." Mercy was biting her lip. "Is Zoe around?"

"Not at present."

"Oh."

"But I'm expecting her back any time now. She's just gone to take care of a little … business." He walked out, feeling the warmth on his face. "You can wait for her, if you like." He grinned. "I don't bite. Well, not much. Just ask my wife."

"I ..." For a moment he thought she was going to bolt, but she seemed to find some courage from deep within. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind." He put his hand under her elbow. "Might as well make ourselves comfy while we do." He urged her up into the shade of the bay.

She was studying him. "You were there. Last night." Mercy blushed. "You asked Polly that question."

Mal chuckled. "Well, I was kinda afraid she was gonna spontaneously combust, the way she was looking."

"Hardly anyone's ever asked her a question." She smiled tentatively. "Hardly anyone asks a question at all."

"How are they supposed to find out who is the best person to vote for?" Simon asked, stepping forward out of the shadows.

Mercy gave a start.

"Don't mind him," Mal said quickly. "That's Simon. He likes to jump out at people. Something to do with his sadistic nature, seeing as he's a medic."

Simon sighed, and the look in his eyes promised volumes, mainly in the aspect of _wait until you're under my knife again_.

"Mal, don't tease." Freya spoke from the top gangway, walking down the stairs towards them.

"Where else am I gonna get my fun if I do that?" Mal countered, grinning up at her.

Freya shook her head slightly and paused by the children, who had stopped playing, and were staring at the newcomer. "Why don't you all go and find something quiet to do for a while?" she suggested to them.

"Can't we stay?" Ethan asked, looking up hopefully.

"Not this time." She added mentally, _Mercy is a bit nervous. She needs some space, okay?_

Ethan sighed. "Yes, Mama."

Bethie took his hand. "Come on," she said. "I've got an idea for a new game we can play."

"What's that?" Ben asked, his coffee-coloured face screwed up a little.

"'Lections." She strode into the common area, the others having to follow.

Freya tried to stifle the grin, failing miserably. She'd had an inkling, and it looked like perhaps she'd been right.

_Frey?_

_Later._

Mal narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't comment further.

Freya smiled as she walked towards them. "Hello, Mercy."

"This here's Freya. My wife," Mal explained.

"I remember." Mercy blushed again, making her even more apple-cheeked than ever.

"I'm sorry you've found us at our worst today," Freya went on. "We normally make visitors a lot more welcome than this."

"Hey, I was welcoming!" Mal protested. "It was Simon here near scared her out of her drawers."

"Mal!" Freya slapped his arm.

Mercy giggled, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

"Well, that's better," Mal said, perching on the crate again. "We're not that bad. Well, most of us."

"Hey, visitors!" Hank hurried out of the common area. "Hi, there!"

Mercy was coming over all anxious again. "Um … hi." Then she recognised him. "You're Zoe's husband."

"That I am." He grinned. "I know you too."

She looked down at the ground. "Mercy Fischer." She almost bobbed a curtsey.

"No, don't do that." Hank shook his head, tucking his fingers under her chin and lifting so she had to look at him. "Nobody's got the right to make you all meek. You stand straight, then spit in their eye."

Mercy couldn't help it. She smiled, and looked around at them all. "Are you always like this?"

"What, you mean handsome and smart?" Mal asked in turn.

"No, I mean all … this." She didn't quite know how to describe it.

Freya understood, though. Just a single touch of her mind on Mercy's made it perfectly clear. "You're not used to men and women being friends, are you?"

"Well …"

"Because on Jericho, the men take what they want and the women let them."

"It's not as bad as that!"

"No?"

Mercy rolled her lip between her teeth, then said quietly, "It's not the done thing."

"What isn't?" Simon asked.

She looked into his face, seeing only genuine concern. "Friendships. Not between men and women. Women stick to their own kind, their own circle. If one of them dares to try and be different, to even talk to a man outside of the house or the church, especially if they're on their own, not married … well, it means that woman is a … a whore."

"That's crazy." Hank crossed his arms, his normally ebullient personality tinged with annoyance. "How do you get to meet boyfriends, husbands?"

"There are socials, events. Any man looking for a wife goes to one of them."

"It makes Jayne's whorehouses sound civilised." He shook his head. "I seriously thought we'd got past that kind of thing."

"It's how we do things on Jericho."

"Well, not no more," Mal said firmly.

Mercy turned her violet eyes on him. "That's … that's why I wanted to talk to Zoe. What she said last night, about changing things, I wanted to know if she really believed it."

"Oh, she does that."

"That men and women are … are equal."

Mal took a deep breath. "Mercy, there are a few women I know think they're better than us menfolk," he confessed. "Better than because they were born into higher circles. And maybe there are some who are more intelligent than me – hell, that wouldn't be difficult." He saw her lips twitch, and went on, "I ain't been over-endowed with brains, not like some on board, but I'm still Captain, and this is my boat. But the point I'm making is that it ain't really about being equal. Not like that. It's about being able to say what you think, regardless of what sex you are. To have your own opinions, and to be listened to. To be able to say no, and not have someone try and make you." His voice became quieter. "It ain't about men and women, Mercy. It's about freedom."

Freya rolled her eyes. "Mal, do you want to wait a while and I'll find you a soapbox?"

He glared at her, then the stern expression on his face dissolved into something much more tender. "Yeah, I was, just a bit, wasn't I?"

"Maybe you _should_ have stood for Parliament."

"Me?" Mal managed to look scandalised. "Can you imagine me in a suit, sitting in that rarified atmo? I wouldn't even give it a day afore I was pining to be out in the Black again."

"You in a suit …" Freya put her head onto one side, contemplating him, her eyes half-closed. "I don't know …"

"Least, not unless we were getting married again, _ai ren_." Mal put his arm around Freya's waist, pulling her in close to him.

Mercy blinked. "Oh."

Mal didn't need to be psychic to see what was going through the young woman's mind. "Frey said folks hereabouts don't do affection in public," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Looks like she was right."

"Actually, I don't know anyone who loves their husband enough to want to do it," Mercy declared, then blushed again at the admission.

"That's okay," Freya said gently. "Just realise that there are a lot more people like us out in the 'verse than not."

"I hope so." Mercy smiled.

"You know, it could be there are men here who want to be more civilised, but feel constrained by convention," Simon said.

"He means they're afraid to show they've got feelings," Hank interpreted. "Only we do, you know. We cry, and everything."

"Was that the sound I heard coming from your bunk last night?" Mal ribbed on his pilot.

"Might've been."

"I believe there was some calling out to a particular deity, too."

Hank stared. "What were you doing, listening at the hatch?"

"A man has the right to wander his own boat," Mal pointed out.

"And I don't recall you being all that quiet yourself," Freya said, leaning down to kiss him lightly on the lips.

Simon shook his head. "Can you not do that in front of everyone?" he implored.

Mal grinned. "Just 'cause your own wife's getting too round to get this close to you."

"I'm going to tell her you said that."

He held up a hand. "No, now, that's not nice."

"And that's my son she's carrying."

"Not saying she isn't. Although if he comes out with a goatee and smoking a cigar, I think maybe you should have words with Jayne."

Mercy was listening to the banter, the verbal sparring, and Freya could feel her relaxing. Seeing people like this, so open with each other, was something so rare she wanted to revel in it. A thought crossed her mind, bright and loud enough for Freya to read without even trying. _This is what it's supposed to be like._

"Don't take any notice of them," she said, smiling at Mercy. "They don't mean it."

"So you don't fight?"

"Oh, we do," Freya conceded. "So much that we have to replace all the breakable plates about once every six months."

"It's true, we do," Mal agreed. "But it's the making up after that's worth it."

"Sir?"

Mal looked up, seeing Zoe striding up the ramp towards him, surprise on her face. "We were just entertaining your friend here," he said, getting to his feet. "She's been waiting for you." He looked past her, not seeing River or Kaylee behind. "Did you … get what you needed to done?"

Zoe nodded. "The others have gone to see Leo. They think he might have what we need."

"Ah. Good."

Mercy looked from one to the other, not understanding that a whole other conversation was going on at the same time.

"They'll be along shortly," Zoe added, then turned to the young woman. "I have to admit I'm kind of surprised to see you here, Mercy."

"I … wanted to talk."

"What about?"

"Last night." She heard Zoe sigh. "No, not like that."

"Then what?"

Mercy bit her lip again. "Is it true? What the leaflet said?" She touched her pocket, indicating she had a copy inside, but didn't draw it out.

"More or less." Zoe had picked up one of the flyers before she'd left the hall, her teeth grinding as she read the details Cromwell had picked off the Cortex about her.

"Which?"

"Pretty much more. It got the basics right." With one part of her mind Zoe noticed Freya ushering the others away towards the common area, leaving her and Mercy alone in the cargo bay, but most of her concentration was on the woman in front of her.

"You were an Independent."

"Yes."

"Nobody was here, not on all of Jericho."

"So I gathered."

"Was it hard? Being a woman, I mean, being a soldier."

"Well, the Alliance didn't care what sex I was, as long as I did what I was told. Then becoming an Independent … they didn't have the manpower to complain."

"So what you said … about nobody having the right to have that kind of sway over another person … did you really mean it?"

"I did."

"Because nobody's ever done that before. Actually come right out with it."

"Then it was time."

"And you were so strong, so determined."

"It's my way."

"Can you show me how?"

Zoe shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. "You want to be like me?"

"Oh, I know that isn't going to happen. I'm me, and for the most part that isn't going to change. But I'd like to be able to put into words what I think, and not be scared of the men talking loud."

Zoe couldn't help it. She put her arm around Mercy's shoulders. "I think we need to talk. Properly. In comfort."

Mercy had to smile. "I'd like that."

"Auntie Zoe?"

Serenity's first mate looked towards the common area. "Yes, Bethie?"

The little girl swung her arms behind her back. "Auntie Frey says to come to the kitchen. She's making coffee. And Uncle Mal says he knows where Momma's biscuit tin is."

"Good idea." Zoe looked down into Mercy's face. "And we can talk about an idea we had for a proper debate, not one of those vanilla evenings."

Mercy was trembling, a little, but nodded enthusiastically. "That would … that would be good."

"And Kaylee's cookies … well, you haven't tasted heaven until you eaten one of them."

Mercy giggled, allowing Zoe to lead her inside. As they reached the stairs, though, she paused. "Oh, and I think I should let you know … keep an eye out for Bea," she said quickly, as if afraid if she didn't get the words out fast enough, they'd run and hide. "She's … not known for her tact."

"Something on the physical side, I'm guessing," Zoe replied.

"Pretty much. Her heart's in the right place – but then it'd have to be, else it wouldn't get the blood round her body." She grinned briefly at her own joke, then her face was serious again. "But I've heard rumours. Stories about people who slighted her, or just got on her nerves … she's always been too anxious to solve things with her fists, is what I've been told."

"And you think I might have rubbed her up the wrong way?"

Mercy laughed. "Think? Zoe, after you left last night, she was promising all sorts of things."

"Why? A strong woman like her, she should be standing up for others weaker than her."

Mercy shook her head. "That's not what she's like. She'll do things underhand, but in public she tries to be the meek little person all the men want."

"Not all."

"But Jericho men aren't like your friends here."

"Some of them are. They have to be. It's the law of averages."

"Then there's some place out in the 'verse where there's a whole planet of nice men." She sighed. "Because it isn't here."


	13. Chapter 13

Mercy had sat and talked for a long time, a conversation that the others had more or less left them to have, instead preferring to go and sit with the children under the observation dome playing Snap and other card games. Freya, after assuring herself that the kids and grownups alike weren't going to hurt themselves, at least nothing beyond paper cuts, had headed into the engine room to put her homework to the practical test, and every so often they'd hear a Chinese swear word drift down the corridor.

It made Bethie giggle and Ethan roll his eyes, looking very like his father.

Much of the conversation at the table revolved around equality, how it worked, why it worked, although one of Mercy's questions gave Zoe pause.

"I … I need to know why you're here." Mercy looked around the kitchen, at the three men sitting in the rest area with the children on their laps, the flowers painted along the pipes. "You're not even from this planet, and you won't be staying, will you?"

"Do you want me to be honest?"

"Yes. I think it would make a nice change on Jericho."

Zoe's lips twitched. "I suppose it would." She took a deep breath, knowing the conversation had stalled under the dome, as if they were waiting for her answer. "Then in honesty, you're right, Mercy. We landed here because we needed a part, and got caught up by accident."

"Then why did you set yourself up as a candidate?"

"Can't it be because I see a need?"

"There is that, but it's not an answer."

Zoe knew she couldn't say. Any hint of illegal activities would bring the Alliance down on them, and at the moment they were like sitting, landlocked ducks. But to lie outright, no matter the provocation … better to skirt around it. "Maybe I was being frivolous, least at first. Giving myself something to do while we waited. But that was before I saw the way things are done here on Jericho." She suppressed a shudder at using the phrase herself. "I don't expect to win, but maybe I can shake things up a little."

Mercy smothered a laugh. "Oh, you've done that already. More than just a little."

"So how did it happen?" Zoe wanted to know in turn. "Jericho being the way it is."

Mercy shrugged. "Religion. Mostly. Our founding fathers were a bit more … fundamentalist than was strictly necessary, and as we've got water, it meant we got more business than the other moons, made us more wealthy …" She thought for a moment. "There were more men than women, they got their pick of the bunch, and just didn't change."

"It's going to now, though, isn't it?"

"You think?"

"I do."

"I hope you're right."

Now Mal and Zoe were watching her leave, walking away from the Firefly.

"You okay?" he asked, seeing Mercy turning at the corner to wave before disappearing.

"Shiny."

"This is me, Zo. Not Hank."

"You think I don't tell him the truth when he asks?"

"I think you do. But you need to tell me too."

"I feel guilty."

His mouth curved. "Don't be. At least you've got a fight on your hands now."

"Mercy?"

"Mmn. I think you'll be surprised." He looked into his oldest friend's face. "Wait and see."

She half-smiled. "That I will, sir."

"So, how did it go?" Mal asked, deftly changing the subject. "At the offices."

"River thinks she knows how to get in," Zoe said, her hands tucked into her pants pockets.

"You know, I really ain't happy about this. I know she's more'n capable of wiping out a roomful of Reavers, but letting her do this? You sure there isn't another way? Maybe one of us can get in, do what needs to be done."

"As much as I wish we could, I don't think that's going to be practical."

Cromwell had been abrupt, taking Zoe up to the top floor of the Election building, River and Kaylee tagging along behind.

"They'll have to stay outside," he said, his body language screaming outrage.

Kaylee made a great show of looking around the sparse corridor. "But there ain't even a place to sit down." She clasped her hands as much as she could around the mound at her waist. "And I can't stand, not if you don't want me to …" She started to pant, leaning against the wall.

"Now look –" Cromwell began, but didn't manage to get more than those two words out before River turned on him.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, in her best upper-class Osiris voice. "My sister-in-law can't possibly be allowed to be in any kind of distress, not in her condition." She put her shoulder under Kaylee's arm, and they pushed past Cromwell into the long, narrow room.

"No, wait, you can't –"

Zoe took hold of his arm, holding him back. "Do you really want me to tell everyone that you left a pregnant woman to fend for herself? Possibly to go into labour while you argued?"

The look on Cromwell's face as he considered the likely repercussions was likely enough to warm her in the middle of the night for years to come, and he waved his hands in front of her. "Fine, fine," he said, backing off. "When you're ready to leave –"

"I remember the way." She had walked past him, into the computer room, closing the door in his face.

Now she shook her head at Mal. "From what we could see, security's too tight to get in the front door, but River's sure she can get in over the roof, and Kaylee thinks she got enough on her passive scanner to dodge the rest."

"That's eight floors up, Zoe."

"Nine."

"She ain't a spider. How's she gonna get up there?"

"I didn't ask. She seemed pretty certain she could do it, though, sir."

"Hmmn."

"You could always try asking her yourself."

"You think she'd give me a straight answer?"

"Can but try, sir." She nodded back outside.

"Hiya, Cap!" Kaylee waddled up to Serenity, her face beaming, even as River and Jayne struggled with armfuls of stuff behind her.

Mal quickly took something that looked liked the innards to one of the sensor arrays out of River's arms before she dropped it.

"Thank you," she said fervently. "I need another 2.58 arms to carry this comfortably."

"What is all this?" Mal asked, turning his cobalt gaze on his mechanic. "The space monkeys about to take over my ship again? 'Cause if they are I ain't above putting a pregnant woman out in the snow."

"It's not snowing," River felt it necessary to point out.

"That ain't the point, albatross. I wanna know whether I'm about to be penniless 'cause my mechanic can't say no."

Kaylee shook her head at him, an indulgent look on her face. "Course not." She pointed to a metal box Jayne had perched precariously between his left hand and his chest. "That's a speaker system. Just needs a tweak and everyone in Jericho Wells is gonna hear Zoe's speechifying."

"And the rest?"

She crossed her arms as much as she could over her belly. "Things we need."

"Kaylee …"

"For our other activities," River put in.

He turned on his surrogate daughter. "Talking about that –"

"Tomorrow, Captain," the young woman said, something slipping in her grip and having to grab at it.

"Not good enough, _xiao nu_."

"Tomorrow." She smiled at him, and he felt a mental warmth spread through him.

"And that'll be enough of that," Mal warned, making her laugh lightly. "How come it's taken you so long, anyway?" he said, blustering only a little, carrying … whatever it was into Serenity's interior and placing it carefully on the floor before turning back.

"Leo insisted we stay, have a drink, something to eat," Kaylee said. She grinned. "I like him. He knows some of the same stories that my Pa tells, and one or two that maybe he shouldn't have, of when they were young …"

"You didn't say anything you shouldn't, did you?"

Kaylee shook her head. "Course not. But I think we can trust him."

"Even if we can, he has to live here after we've gone," Zoe pointed out. "If he gets even an idea of what we're planning, it might not be safe for him."

"We didn't mention anything," River confirmed. "Kaylee was very … circumspect."

"But he's gonna tell everyone about the campaigning," the young mechanic said. "We thought that was okay."

"I guess," Mal said, glancing at his first mate. "As long as you're still up for it."

"More than ever," Zoe said, looking out in the direction Mercy had taken.

"You really think she's gonna …" He stopped, not needing to say another word.

"Maybe." They'd known each other so long, sometimes they didn't even have to speak.

"She's awful … meek."

"And the meek shall inherit the earth," River said. "It says so in the Shepherd's book."

"Well, I ain't seen too much of that going around," Mal admitted, relieving her of some more of the stuff in her arms. "But I'll take your word for it."

* * *

He didn't often come up on her unawares, but she was still trying to clear the last of the grease from under her nails, and concentrating on her task. He slid his arms around her, making her jump and give out a yelp.

Freya looked down at the water liberally besprinkling her shirt. "Did you have to do that?" she asked, somewhat peevishly, trying to wriggle free.

"Should you be doing that at the kitchen sink?" Mal countered, holding her tighter and pulling her against him.

"I would've thought you'd prefer dinner not to taste of the engine."

"Preferably not, but I meant why ain't you doing this in our bunk?"

"Because I'd leave grease all over the ladder."

"Good point." He eased her around so she was facing him, her hands raised to keep the suds from them both. "But it's a long time 'til supper."

"And my stew always tastes better if it can cook slowly."

"Some, I'll admit."

She lowered her hand to hit or pinch, but stared at the grease still in patches on her skin. "Gorramit," she muttered.

He grinned. "Hey, I quite like this. You can't retaliate."

She placed her boot on top of his. "No?"

"You wouldn't. Not when I'm being friendly." He moved one hand up to where he knew the central sigil sat in her tattoo, pressing gently with his fingertips.

"I don't mind you being friendly," she responded, her eyes half-closing. "But I have to cook."

"Tell you what. I'll find some reason to be pissed at Simon, and I'll make him do it."

Soapy water was running down her arms towards her elbows, soaking her sleeves. "You can't. He does it all too often as it is."

"I'm Captain."

"And he's the Doctor, not the cook. And you should be resting."

"Told you. Can't without you." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, his tongue pressing against her mouth until it gained entrance.

"Mal …" she murmured, her voice making his lips tremble.

"What?"

She gave up. Lowering her arms, she wrapped them around him, heedless of the fact that he was getting damp now too. For a long time there was no talk, just the sound of two people in love taking pleasure from each other. Then …

"Don't mind me, Cap," Kaylee said, waddling through, tools clanking in her pockets. "Ain't lookin'."

Mal pulled back a little, gazing into his wife's eyes, even as he said, "You like being a bucket of cold water, do you, _mei-mei_?"

"Take more'n that," Kaylee avowed, carefully climbing the steps and heading for the stairs to the cargo bay.

"Why ain't she taking the back way?" he asked, settling his arms back around his wife into a more comfortable position.

"I think she's finding the steps up from the infirmary to be getting too much for her, at least when she can avoid them."

"Anything we can do to help?"

"Not really. Short of locking her in her room."

"Think Simon'll go for that?"

"No."

"Me neither." He kissed her again, detecting the faintest tang of engine grease.

She hummed in satisfaction, then leaned back a little. "He asked me again today." She spoke as if he would know exactly what she was talking about.

He did. "What did you say?"

"The same as always. That I'd talk to you."

"Now, is that a good example you wanna set your son? Having to come to me for my permission?" He grinned at her, but realised she was quite serious.

"Ethan sees Bethie with her own room, Hope too, and as much as he wants to be like his father and be a gentleman, he gets jealous."

"Frey, there ain't really that much space. As it is if we get passengers –"

"And how long's it been since we did that?"

"Well, okay, a while," he admitted. "But the time might come when we need to take some on, and if that's the case then what do we do?"

"The kids double up."

He looked down at her. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

"He's a growing boy. He wants his own space, not one he shares with his sister."

"Did you? I mean with Alex?"

She shrugged, and he felt the movement against his chest. "Not really. I think we shared a nursery for a while, but most of my memories are of my own room."

"All pink and pretty, I'm guessing."

"Now who's being sexist?"

"You mean it wasn't?"

She squirmed slightly, making him even more aware of her body sliding against his. "Maybe a little pink. But that was because my mother insisted, not me."

"And what did you want?"

"I …" She stopped. "I don't actually know."

He was surprised. "Didn't they ever ask you?"

"Not really." She shrugged. "Mal, I might have been a Rostov, but I was a girl. Girls have pink bedrooms and do … girlie things. They're not supposed to go climbing trees and jumping in puddles."

"Bet you did, though."

"No wonder my mother despaired of me." She sighed dramatically.

Mal grinned. "Well, you made it up with her. And I know she's proud of you now."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I would. And I'm just wondering how far else we can go before –

There was a screeching sound that made them both wince, then Kaylee's voice boomed, _"Testing. Testing. One, two, three, three, two, one. There once was a young man from Sturges, who had these incredible urges –"_

"_You really want to be finishing that limerick?"_ Zoe's voice bounded around the Firefly. _"Considering how it ends?"_

A giggle made the cups rattle. _"Oh, yeah."_

"Kaylee, turn the gorram sound down!" Mal yelled into the comm., feedback almost blasting his eardrums.

There was another squeal, then a much quieter and slightly subdued mechanic said, over the internal system this time, _"Sorry, Cap'n."_

He glanced at Freya, who was hiding her laughter behind one hand. "I take it the loudspeakers you were setting up work?"

"_That they do. The bits I got off Leo do the job just fine."_

"Then put 'em away and tell your husband he's cooking tonight."

"_But it ain't his turn_."

"Kaylee, what did I say about who owns this ship?"

There was a huge sigh that had Freya stifling a laugh. _"You're captain. What you say goes."_

"Right. And I need a rest 'fore supper, so I'm taking one."

"_But I thought it was Frey's … oh."_

"'xactly."

"_Is that all you think about?"_ This, from Kaylee, was tantamount to mutiny.

Mal had to smile. "This from the woman who made me blush sometimes going past her bunk?"

Kaylee giggled again, back to her normal self. _"Okay, I'll tell him. But Frey does the cleaning up after."_

"Deal." He switched the comm. off. "See?" he said, turning back to his wife. "That's how you deal with equality of the sexes."

Freya laughed, the sound drowned as his lips crashed onto hers.


	14. Chapter 14

"Mal, if you're done with your _rest_ …" Hank called from the bridge as Serenity's captain set foot in the corridor above his bunk, putting an entirely unnecessary emphasis on the last word.

Instead of heading for the kitchen and a coffee, Mal glared towards his pilot. "No-one's cleaned out the septic vat so far this stay." He climbed the steps two at a time.

"I wasn't saying anything," Hank semi-blustered. "Just asking."

"As long as it was just asking."

"And … ah … you might wanna …" Hank indicated the front of his crotch vaguely.

Mal looked down. "Thanks," he said, doing up a button that had somehow been missed.

"No problem."

"So what did you want?"

"Ah." Hank nodded. "I've got some info that might come in handy for our legitimate, not-breaking-into-a-bank-at-all-thank-you-very-much business dealing."

"Likely to get me shot?"

"Hope not."

"Me too." He hitched his thumbs under his suspenders. "Better tell me, afore I die of old age."

"It's amazing what you can find on the Cortex," Hank said happily. "I'm always amazed. Did you know you can ask a question like 'how do you rob a bank', and it tells you?"

Mal fixed him with a serious gaze. "This ain't gonna link back to us, is it?"

"No. At the moment I'm an eight year old girl on Bernadette."

"I can see the resemblance."

"I mean, I'm piggybacking off her signal. I've slipped my question in with hers, and redirected the answer through half a dozen nodes." He grinned. "I knew the new relays the Alliance've been setting up would come in handy."

"As long as they ain't got any sniffer programmes running."

"They haven't. Ariel – that's the girl, by the way." Hank rolled his eyes. "I know. Her parents named her after the planet. Poor kid's gonna end up needing a lot of –"

"Hank."

"Right. Well, she's been asking too many odd questions for mine to tip the grid. Her last one was how to make her hair curly." He ran his hand through his own untidy brown locks. "That one I'd be interested to know the answer to."

"Hank, as fascinating as this is contemplating you in ringlets and ankle socks – and believe me when I say it ain't – do you actually have anything that might be able to help us?"

"I think I have." He grinned again. "And it's all to do with the fact that the First National Bank of Jericho Wells has a Sirius Mark 3 walk-in safe."

Out of the corner of his eye Mal saw Ethan stop in the corridor, look their way, then lean over the open hatch to his and Freya's bunk, but his concentration was on his pilot, not his son. "Go on," he said, perching on the console.

* * *

"Mama?"

Freya looked up from where she was straightening the covers after Mal's 'rest'. "What is it, Ethan?"

Her son climbed carefully down the ladder, his attention as always on what he was doing. He had a single-mindedness she recognised as being pure Mal, determined on one thing sometimes to the detriment of his personal safety, but at least was coming to realise it. So as much as he wanted to hurry down the ladder to talk to his mother, he knew one false step could mean bruises, or worse, so he took it slowly.

Freya tried not to smile.

"Mama …" He'd reached the floor and now looked up at her.

"Yes."

"Did you talk to Daddy?"

"What about?" She went down onto her heels, pushing his bangs from his face and making a mental note to trim them when he had his bath.

"My room." He glanced towards the nursery, a look on his face that was also Mal to a 'T'.

"Why didn't you talk to him about it?" she asked.

His nose screwed up. "Daddy's talking to Uncle Hank on the bridge."

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind you interrupting."

"Not on the bridge." It was as if she'd suggested he put Maoli out of the airlock.

She had to drop her head before she could regain control of her face. To cover it, she brushed non-existent dirt off his shoes. "Well, as it happens, I did." She looked up.

"And?"

"Which room do you want?"

His face slipped from the serious, Mal-like solemnity, into joy. "Daddy said yes?"

"He said yes."

Ethan threw his arms around his mother's neck, taking them both to the floor. "Mama …"

She laughed, rubbing his back. "So which room do you want? The one next to Bethie?"

The faint disgust reappeared. "No. Other bit."

She knew what he meant. He wanted to be in the other section of crew quarters, away from the Tams, somewhere different, somewhere special. "Hmmn, I think maybe I agree." She scooted back so she was against the curved bulkhead, supporting him as he lay against her chest. "When the new baby comes, it's going to be pretty noisy around there."

"Crying," he said quietly, enjoying their closeness. "And pooping."

Freya chuckled. "True. But I don't think any of us are going to be able to get away from that."

"Did I poop a lot?" he asked, looking up into her face.

She tweaked his nose and made him giggle. "You did. But your father forgave you."

He grinned and snuggled back down. "Of course he did," he whispered firmly.

"You sure you'll be okay on your own?" she asked, stroking his back. "I mean, it's a fair distance. A couple of staircases … you won't be able to come in with us quite so easily if you have nightmares."

He stopped moving. "You won't let me?"

"I didn't say that." She lifted his chin so she could look into those familiar blue eyes. "It's just that we'll be a bit more than a door away."

"But I can come in if I need to?"

She smiled tenderly. "Of course you can."

He heaved a sigh of relief. "Good." After a moment he added, "And won't have nightmares anyway."

"That's good." She gazed at the nursery, soon only to be occupied by her little girl. "What about Jesse, though? Don't you think she'll get lonely?"

He thought for a long while, then shrugged as much as he could in her embrace. "Has you and Daddy. Right here. Only a door away."

"That's true."

"And we'll still play," he went on. "I can come to tea."

Now Freya laughed. "That sounds like an idea."

A look of mischievousness crossed his face, this time one she knew from the mirror. "Bethie's gonna be jealous."

"Why? She has her own room."

"Next to Auntie Kaylee and Uncle Simon." He snickered.

"And you won't be lording it over her, will you?" It wasn't so much a question as an order.

"No, Mama."

_Yeah, right_, she thought. "So. Your Daddy and your Uncle Hank are on the bridge. Where's everyone else?"

He thought for a moment, and she was surprised to see he appeared to be unfocused, like she was when she –

"Auntie Zoe's looking after Cal, Uncle Simon's cooking, Auntie Kaylee's in the engine room doing something, Auntie River and Uncle Jayne are in the shuttle being …" His little nose creased up, just like Bethie's did when she found people doing squicky things.

She put her fingers on the back of his hand. "Ethan. You can feel them?"

He nodded, then looked up into her eyes. "Mama, why does that scare you?"

"Not scared. Just … concerned. I just don't want you telling anyone off-ship, _dong mah_? This is our secret." She mentally pressed at his walls, but they seemed as tight as ever. She'd always hoped he'd grow out of it, but now … _No_. _Don't think like that_, she told herself. _If that's what happens, we'll deal. Like we always have._

"Mama?" He could tell, obviously. "Did I do wrong?"

Appalled that she might have made him uncomfortable in the least, she gathered him to her. "No, no, Ethan. It's okay." She smiled for him. "Remind me and we'll play some games later, see how far this goes. But no peeking."

"Okay, Mama."

"In fact, don't let's tell your father at all. We'll surprise him."

"Okay." He snuggled back down, but she could tell he wasn't too sure about this. Then again, neither was she.

For a moment they were quiet, then … "Ethan, will you promise me something?"

He lifted his head again. "Mama?"

"When you're all grown up and as tall as your dad, will you still let me do this?" She indicated what she meant by holding him even closer and stroking his hair.

An expression of confusion crossed his little face. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you'd be all grown up and as tall as your dad."

"That'd be silly," he stated. "Never gonna want to stop doing this." He wrapped his arms tighter, his fingers tangled in her shirt as always. "Promise."

"That's my good boy." She smiled, if a trifle sadly, and rested her chin on the top of his head.

"Ethan?" This was Jesse, leaning down through the hatch.

The little boy sighed, but said, "Come on, then."

His sister hurried down the ladder, almost falling down the last couple of steps. She grinned widely and ran across the cabin, throwing herself on top of her mother and brother, and they all ended up in a rough and tumble, even as Freya wondered how she was going to tell Mal.

* * *

Simon stood back, satisfied. Supper was almost ready. Just another half an hour, and everyone would be gathered in the warm dining area, voices talking over each other, sitting down to a decent meal. There had been times in the intervening years since he'd come on board when the most they could look forward to was protein, in all its many and varied blandness, but since there had been children Mal had made it a point to get fresh food as often as possible. It might cost more than the pre-packaged mulch, but he didn't need to be told that growing bones needed the real thing, even if it meant maybe not buying something else. Simon knew there had been times when Mal went without, the others too, just so their children would be okay.

He sniffed appreciatively. It might be all his own work, but it smelled good, and that was half the battle. He remembered reading something once about some of the food chains pumping the scent of fresh bread into their markets to try and entice people to buy, and then Professor Ratzen's discourse on a similar topic.

Simon could still hear his accented voice now.

"Of course," the man had said, leaning on the lectern and staring myopically at his audience, "everyone knows how a smell can evoke a specific reaction. I myself need only to get the hint of fresh cut grass in my nose and I am back in my school room, waiting for the class to be over so I can get outside and play. And who amongst you has not stopped to sniff the air after a pretty woman has passed by, wearing a certain perfume? All of you, that's who. Even the women." He'd laughed at his own feeble joke. "It is because the nasal receptors are hot-wired directly into the emotional centres of the brain, evoking memories more clearly than anything else, even pictures."

"Why is that, Professor?" Madeleine Carney had asked, her red hair in a tight bun that every single male student wanted to let loose, to feel her silken tresses slide through their fingers, to bury their faces in and take a huge breath. "And what about bad smells? Things we think are horrible?"

Ratzen had looked at her and smiled. "Ms Carney, I didn't say that the emotions are necessarily good. We have inbuilt reactions to certain smells because their causes might hurt us, or kill us. I am merely pointing out that they are powerful."

He'd been right, of course. For days after Simon had gone around making notes of what he found attractive, or not, and so often there was a scent attached.

And at the moment, for some reason he wanted to smell a hot engine. Grinning, he left the food to its own devices and went to find his wife.

Which almost gave him a heart attack.

She was lying on the floor of the engine room, her hands by her sides, her eyes closed.

"Kaylee!" he yelled, going down onto his knees next to her, ignoring whatever it was that ripped at his pants and stabbed him in the calf. He put his hand to her neck. "Kaylee, can you hear me?"

She opened her eyes, and he felt his heart start beating again. "Simon, a'course I can hear you."

"Don't move. What happened? Did you fall? Were you dizzy? Is it the baby? Is the baby coming? Do you hurt –"

She lifted her hand and put her fingers on his lips, stopping him. "I'm shiny. And I didn't fall. I'm okay."

He thanked Buddha silently, then said, "Come on. Can you stand up?"

"Course."

Getting his hands under her armpits he helped her to her feet, not letting her go until she was sitting on the hammock. "_You're_ bleeding, though," she pointed out.

He glanced down, seeing the fabric around the tear in his pants turning red. "I … I caught it on something."

"That'll happen, you running into an engine room like that."

"I thought you were hurt!"

"I know." She couldn't help the little self-satisfied smirk.

"I mean it, I thought you were really hurt."

The smirk faded, and she looked slightly ashamed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"But are you sure you're okay?"

"Honestly, I'm fine."

He glanced down at where she'd been lying. "Then what …?"

"I was practicing."

"What? Making me old before my time?"

"No." She swatted him on the arm. "Those breathing exercises 'Nara showed me. For when our son decides to put in an appearance." She stroked her belly.

"And you had to do it here? Now?"

"It was quiet, and everyone else was busy, and … why not?"

He opened his mouth to argue, to present every single flaw in her logic, but looked into her eyes instead. "Kaylee …" He sat down next to her, the hammock beginning to swing gently.

"No-one was supposed to see," she explained. "In case I looked crazy or something."

"Crazy. Right." He shook his head.

"It's just something Companions are taught. Inara calls it 'the breath of light'." She giggled. "She does it in that sitting where you cross your legs at a funny angle, but I ain't exactly able to get in that position right now."

"The lotus," Simon supplied.

"That's it." She seemed surprised. "How do you know that?"

"I studied meditation techniques in MedAcad. The lotus is … well, traditional."

"I watched Inara, and I have to say I wondered how she was gonna get unlocked from it again, but she did. And she looked all kinds of elegant sitting there, just breathing."

"She thought it might help during labour?"

Kaylee grinned at him. "That's right! She figured if I practised enough maybe I'd be able to take myself out of myself if I wanted … you know, just be an observer, not feeling any pain."

"Do you want that?" They'd talked about the different kinds of birth options available several times, but Kaylee had never really come down in favour of one or another.

She thought for a moment. "You know, not really. This baby is such a miracle," she looked down at the swell at her waist, "I don't wanna miss a minute."

"I think labour's going to last a bit longer than a minute."

She elbowed him lightly. "I know that."

The other thing they'd never really sorted was the issue of her previous Caesarean. "Kaylee …" Simon began, but didn't really know how to broach the subject. This wasn't just a patient – this was his wife.

"Simon." She knew what he was trying to say. "I don't want to be cut open again. But if it has to go that way, then I ain't gonna stop you. Only if it has to, mind."

He felt something lift from his shoulders that he hadn't realised was there. It certainly wasn't the case that one Caesarean meant any subsequent babies had to be born the same way, but out here, in the border worlds, he didn't want to have that happen and have Kaylee fighting him all the way. "Thank you."

"Nothing to thank me for. You're the doctor."

"Thanks anyway." He leaned against her and grinned. "Is this was that breathing technique does? Makes you all compliant?"

"No." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "But maybe it helps me see things a bit clearer."

"You are wonderful."

She blushed. "You're just saying that 'cause you had your wicked way with me."

"Actually I think it was the other way around."

"Prob'ly." She chuckled. "So, 'Nara asked you yet?"

"About what?"

"Why she ain't pregnant?"

Simon stared at her. "How did …?"

Kaylee grinned. "You ain't the only one knows stuff. Me and Inara, we talk regularly, and she tells me things she wouldn't tell anyone else. Not even the Cap."

"And she told you she was worried."

"No. I guessed that. And you just confirmed it."

"Kaylee!"

"Aw, she wouldn't mind. We're friends." Kaylee swung her legs a little, seeing her feet in their sandals appear every so often, and idly noted her toenails needed painting. Perhaps she'd get Simon to do it later. "So I was thinking perhaps she wanted you to see if there was something they could do. I mean, the Companion birth control stuff must be out of her system by now, so maybe it caused something else. Something you could perhaps help with?"

Simon could only gape at her. Sometimes her insight surprised him so much he was struck speechless, and this was such a time. "I … well, actually …"

Kaylee sighed happily, enjoying being proved right. "That's what I thought."

Her husband dragged himself back together. "As it happens, yes, she spoke to me before we left Lazarus. I took some blood and said I'd do some tests."

"What did you find out?"

"No."

"You mean you didn't find nothing?"

"No, I mean I'm not going to tell you. This is between me and Inara."

"You know she'll tell me if I ask her."

"Then you'll just have to ask her." He put up his hand to forestall her arguing. "Kaylee, _bao bei_, I know you have this insatiable curiosity to know what's going on in everyone's life, to make things work better, to … to interfere." He looked at her from under his eyebrows, and he knew she understood by the way she wouldn't meet his eyes. "But not this time. If Inara wants to tell you, then she will. Other than that, you're not going to get me to."

"I could withhold sexual favours," Kaylee threatened. "Like those Sabine women."

For a moment Simon regretted lending her the book on Earth-that-was mythology, and wondered whether to correct her, tell her she'd meant Lysistrata, then he just smiled. "Kaylee, you know that won't work."

"I ain't Frey," she said stubbornly. "Just 'cause she couldn't keep her hands off the Cap …"

"Fine." He made his face look entirely uninterested. "I can practise restraint."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

They stared at each other, neither wanting to be the one to look away first.

Then Mal's voice reverberated along the corridor. "Doc!" He did not sound happy. "Whatever you're doing with my mechanic, stop it. Somethin's burning!"

"Oh, _diyu_," Simon said, scrambling to his feet and running out of the engine room back towards the kitchen.

"Um, Simon?" Kaylee called, swinging backwards and forwards, suddenly wondering if she was going to be able to get out of the hammock unaided. "Help?"


	15. Chapter 15

Supper was done, and everyone apart from Mal complimented Simon on the smoky flavour of the meat-substitute protein, Jayne going so far as to state that it tasted almost as good as the joints his Ma used to cook over an open fire when his dad had been hunting. The doctor blushed slightly, deflecting their praise and wondering if the Captain was going to rat him out, but Mal just sat at the head of the table, his steady gaze on the young man, Freya's hand over his. Maybe his lips were twitching just a bit, but that might have been an optical illusion. Or guilt.

Immediately he'd finished, Ethan asked for and got permission to head to his new room, where his clothes and boxes of toys already resided. He knew it was going to feel odd, not having his parents next door, but he was looking forward to it. To being a big boy.

"S'just a room," Bethie said dismissively, standing in the open doorway in her little nightdress, her hands clasped tightly behind her back.

"_S'my_ room." Before supper Ethan had watched Maoli investigate every corner, her nose close to the bulkhead, the bed, soft pink pads barely disarranging the covers. Then she'd leapt onto the heating duct above his pillow and settled down, her tail twitching over the edge. Now she looked down at them, her green eyes shining in the low light.

"Had my room for years." She sniffed loudly. "Years and years and years and years."

"I know." He arranged the knitted alligator at the end of the bed, then turned and looked at her.

"Years," she added, just so he got the message.

"I know." He glanced around. "Mama said I could have it decorated how I wanted. I was 'sidering dinosaurs. What do you think?"

"Uncle Mal won't let you paint on the walls."

"My Daddy will." He half-closed one eye. "Or maybe pirates."

Bethie bridled. "Pirates …" She could hardly breathe for the indignation bubbling in her little chest.

"Might do." He grinned. "And I'm going to bed now. In _my _room." With a smirk that made him look more like his father than ever, he slid the door closed in her face.

She glared, huffed twice, then said, loudly enough so that he could hear every syllable, "We're gonna play 'lections tomorrow, Ethan. Then you just see." She stamped off to bed.

* * *

Freya finished tidying the kitchen, then took the long route back to her and Mal's bunk, going via the lower crew quarters. It wasn't that she was worried about Ethan. No, it wasn't that at all. But she just wanted to look in, make sure he was all right, that the bed bugs hadn't got him, that …

Mal was standing in the area outside, the doorway cracked just a little, looking in.

"And I thought I was the sentimental one," Freya said, coming up behind him and resting her cheek against his shoulder.

"He's asleep." Mal moved enough so that she could see.

Ethan was rolled into the covers, Maoli having deigned to join him, curled up on the pillow like a grey mist.

"Mal …" She stopped.

"What?" When she didn't answer he turned to look at her. "Frey?"

"I …" She shook her head. "No. Nothing."

"If there's something –"

"No. I … I'm just going to miss him."

He smiled, his finger tracing her jawline. "Frey, honey, he's barely a minute away. It ain't like we're on a cruise liner, when it takes half the day to get from one end to the other. And he's got Simon and Kaylee just the other side."

"I know."

"'Sides, you never know, he might hate it and want to come back."

"I doubt that."

He pulled her into his arms. "Frey, I know what this is all about. But he's not grown yet. There's gonna be plenty of times when he comes running to his Mama for a hug, to dry his tears and have his skinned knee kissed better. Hell, I do that, and I'm just a tad older'n him." When she laughed slightly, he squeezed her. "He's barely out of diapers, Frey. I think it's gonna be a while 'fore he announces he's getting wed."

"I don't know. There are some places I've been when boys get married at twelve."

"Well more fool them. Personally I find it takes a lot longer, and a man being so stupid he can't see what he's got right in front of him, before that happens." He slid the door closed. "Come on. I've got a yearning for my own bed."

Her lips curved. "You're that tired?"

"Well, all this fresh air." Mal dipped his head a little. "Not used to it. Tires a man out."

"Really."

"Not that I've got anything against the recycled stuff," he added quickly. "Only once it's been around Jayne's lungs a few thousand times, it does kinda get a slight aftertaste to it."

She laughed as he kissed her.

And now Mal was dozing, rolled onto his chest, something he could only do because as soon as they'd got together Freya had insisted they widen the bed. Otherwise he'd have been on the floor long since.

"Mal?"

"Mmn?"

"Mal."

"M'lis'nin'."

"You're not."

"Am." He turned his head towards her, trying to focus.

They'd made love, Mal having decided he wasn't as tired as all that, but he'd still got the impression her mind was maybe somewhere else. It didn't make it any less passionate, or satisfying, but he wondered vaguely what it was that had occupied her mind. He had the feeling he was about to find out.

"Mal, I …"

He looked at her, biting her lip like Jesse did when she'd done something wrong and didn't want to admit to it.

"Are you gonna confess somethin'?" He levered himself onto his elbow. "Don't tell me. You're gonna run away with Jayne and join the circus. He's gonna be the strong man, and you're gonna get something from Simon and be the bearded lady." For once she didn't laugh, and that made a wave of uncomfortableness wash through him. "You're not, are you? Gonna run away?"

"No. But …" She berated herself for not even being able to finish a single sentence.

"I hate those. The 'buts' that hang around. They make me all kinds of nervous," he pointed out.

"It's … about Ethan."

He grinned, relaxing. "I knew you were missing him already."

"He knew where you all were."

"What are you …" Realisation hit him, and he sat up, the blanket falling from him. "He knew?"

Freya nodded unhappily. "Before supper. I'd just told him he could have a room to himself, and I asked if he knew where everyone was. Mal, he knew Jayne and River were in the shuttle making love."

"That's … poor kid. Having to see that, even at a distance. Seen it myself once too often. Thought I'd go blind."

She knew he didn't really mean the words he was saying, that his mouth was working on automatic while his brain processed what she'd just told him. "I know," she murmured.

"How much?" he asked finally. "Just knowing, or … like you?"

"I don't know," she had to admit. "It was a shock, Mal. I didn't have time to do much more than … I don't know."

He could see the pain and fear in her face, and pulled her towards him, cradling her in his arms. "It's okay, Frey. It's okay."

"I wanted him to grow out of it," she said so quietly he could hardly tell she was speaking, except for her breath on his naked chest. "To not have to go through … any of it."

"_Xin gan_, you said yourself, you don't know the extent yet. Permaybehaps he's able to know where we are, what we're doing, and it's just an extension of that empathy thing, but that might be it. He ain't shown a sign of being able to Read folks, has he? Their specific thoughts, I mean, not just the fact that we're not using words."

"Well …"

"And I'm pretty sure he'd've said. And shown it too, considering sometimes how he and Bethie argue."

She had to chuckle. "That they do."

"So … what? It kinda creeped up on him gradually?"

"I think it must have." She laid her hand gently on the still raised scar in the centre of his chest, the gold cross she'd given him just above, connecting directly to his heart. "I can't have anything happen to him too, Mal."

He didn't have to be psychic to know what was going through her head as she trembled against him, but he wished he was. He wanted to be able to go into her thoughts and kill the bastards that had hurt her, had stolen her childhood and given nothing back but pain and insanity. Maybe one day he'd find them, the ones who ordered kids to be hurt like that, who were still ordering it done to people like River, and Mara Tam, to do what he dreamed of in the middle of the night, with patience and great joy. But right now she needed him to be strong for her.

"It won't." He stroked her back, his hand pressing firmly onto her tattoo. It always calmed her, no matter what had gone before, and it was having the same effect now. A light touch and it was more arousing, particularly on the centre sigil, the one that stood for passion, but this, a constant pressure, soothed her mind. "Ain't gonna happen, Frey," he whispered. "Ethan, Jesse if it turns out that way … hell, any other kids we have in the process … those _hwoon dahn_ won't have them. Serenity'd run red with blood 'fore I let that happen."

Her breathing had eased, and he laid down, holding her to him.

"You keep us all safe, don't you?" she murmured, her eyes closing.

"I try, Frey." He continued to stroke her tattoo, feeling the tension leave her body like a physical presence being exorcised.

"You do it really well." She yawned. "I'm so proud of you."

He smiled. "Really?"

"Really. Maybe I don't say it enough, and I should say it more." She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. "I love you, and I'm proud of you."

"Hell, Frey, I'm more proud of you."

"No. I'm prouderer."

"Is that a word?"

"Don't care." She breathed out, making the few odd hairs on his chest move as his skin tingled.

"And don't be worrying about Ethan, either. We're not going anywhere, and once we figure out what he can do, we'll be fine." He squeezed her shoulder. "I mean, River ain't said anything, has she?" He waited. "Frey?"

He looked down, then smiled again. She was asleep, mouth slightly open. He knew that meant he'd have a damp patch in a while, but it didn't matter. Sleep was by far the best thing for her, seeing as she worried about her children more than she worried about him. Well, almost. And he hadn't been lying. His family was the most important thing to him, and always would be.

* * *

Next morning everyone was up early, ready to greet the day and see what happened when they shook Jericho Wells enough to make it squeak.

Not that everyone was particularly happy. Jayne had complained loudly about being worked like a packhorse as they loaded him down with so much equipment until he could hardly move.

"You trying to kill me or something?" he asked, nursing a toe where something had dropped on it. "I'm thinking I should change my name to Dobbin or some such."

"Maybe I did overdo it a bit," Kaylee admitted. "But if we're gonna do something, we're gonna do it right."

"Yeah, but do we really need all this _gos se_?"

Mal held up a hand to forestall any more comments as he saw Kaylee's hackles go up. "Fine. Zoe, prep the mule."

"Yes sir."

The old vehicle trundled comfortingly out into the morning light, Zoe in the driver's seat, a slight smile on her face as she remembered how much Wash had loved that ATV, even insisting they recover it after it took part in the attack on Niska's skyplex, so very long ago. Kaylee, by dint of being pregnant, rode shotgun, and heard her sigh, but didn't say anything. She was thinking about the blond pilot too, and the scrapes they'd got into, and how she was sure he was still looking out for them. She grinned.

"You ready?" Jayne asked Hank, watching the mule puffing up dust around its wide wheels as it headed for the town.

"As I'll ever be."

"Bet you ten I get there first."

"I don't bet anymore, Jayne, you know that."

The big man chuckled, and slapped Hank on the shoulder. "Just checking."

They jogged down the ramp, Hank wondering when he was likely to get the feeling back in his arm.

* * *

Of all the crew, only River and Simon were staying behind, the latter to keep an eye on the children, the former to ostensibly work on her plan, although in truth she knew exactly who was going to do what and when. The planning was all down to getting Mal to accept it.

The man in question was strolling towards the town square with his wife on his arm, taking delight as always in just being a couple for a while.

He glanced at her, at the light waist-length jacket she'd put on over her normal shirt. "Cold?" he asked.

"No," she admitted. "But it hides the shoulder holster." She touched where the leather sat snugly under her arm.

"Seems like I ain't the only one thinks it's better to be safe than sorry." He might not have named his own weapons, but the small pistol lying against his skin under his shirt certainly gave him a feeling of security.

"And I thought I was the one who used sayings like that."

He chuckled. "See what being married to you does? Amazingly corrupting." He was glad to see her smile. "So, you feeling okay now?"

She didn't have to ask about what. "I'm shiny, Mal." At his look she amended quickly, "Better. Better than I was."

"Well, a good night's sleep will do that for you."

Freya nodded. "I realised there's no point in worrying about something until it happens. And maybe his … his talents won't develop anymore." Even outside, away from prying ears, she was still circumspect.

Mal understood completely. "Permaybehaps you're right. Is that what happened with you? Develop over the years?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't remember. And anyway I wasn't fully formed, so to speak. Not like … others."

Like Bethie, she meant.

He tightened his arm a little, pulling her into his side. "Then we'll wait and see. And no matter what, we'll love him. He's our son." He kissed her, only breaking from her lips when he heard someone tutting as they went past, and he saw a steel-grey bun with an elderly woman attached to it shaking her head at them.

"You're likely to get us bound if you keep doing that," Freya breathed, but didn't seem too worried.

"For kissing my wife?" Mal grinned. "Worth every day in jail."

"You just remember that when you're breaking rocks." She urged him forwards. "Anyway, I'm more concerned with what Bethie's up to."

"Why, what's that little girl got up her sleeve?"

"She's attempting to consolidate her power base."

"What?"

"She's holding an election."

Mal couldn't help but smile. "And Ethan's letting her?"

"He's being a gentleman. For the moment."

"So what's it all in aid of? I mean, she tells them what to do anyway."

"She wants to make it official."

For a moment Mal entertained the image of Bethie on a podium, haranguing a crowd of people, and wasn't surprised to realise he could imagine it very well. "Ah. There likely to be blood?"

"I think maybe one of us should have a talk with her before there is."

"By one of us I'm venturing that you're suggesting me."

"Thanks for volunteering."

"Frey, I don't volunteer for anything. I kinda learned my lesson about that a long time ago."

"But you will, won't you?"

"Why can't you?"

"Because, my darling Mal, as you've so often said, it's your boat. You're Captain. And I think Bethie's going to listen to you much more readily than to anyone else."

"Frey …"

She patted his hand as they turned into the large square. "You'll do fine," she assured him.

"How come when people say that, I tend to end up shot?"

She didn't answer, just stared ahead.

Mal turned to where she was looking, for a moment not seeing anything beyond the small park at one end, the fancy shops and restaurants with their chairs out ready to catch the lunchtime trade, the Election offices dwarfing the other buildings and casting a shadow across the plaza …

And to where Jayne was having a heated argument with a man Mal recognised with a sinking heart as being the Election official, one Thomas Adonais Cromwell.


	16. Chapter 16

"Here." Bethie held out a half dozen slips of paper.

They were sitting in the common area outside the infirmary, while Simon busied himself inside, occasionally poking his head around the door just to make sure one or other hadn't wandered off.

"What are they?" Ethan asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

"This is a 'lection, so these are your ballot papers."

"What are we electing?"

"A leader." She puffed out her chest.

"Why?"

"Someone has to be."

"Why?"

"'Cause."

"That's not a reason."

Bethie had explained, as well as she could, but obviously had not been able to get her point across. "Uncle Mal is in charge of Serenity, right?"

"My Daddy, yes."

"And my Daddy is in charge of the 'firmary, right?"

"Yes."

"And my Momma is in charge of the engine room, right?"

"Okay."

"So that means I've got two people in charge of things on my side, right?"

"So you think that means you're more in charge of us because you've got two on your side?" Ethan asked, trying to get it clear.

"No, course not." Truthfully that had been in the back of her mind, although torture and being sent to bed early for a month wasn't going to pry it out of her.

"Only Ben's Momma is First Mate, and his Daddy is pilot, so maybe that makes him next. After my Daddy of course. Being Captain." He rubbed it in, just a little.

She didn't let the annoyance show. "And that's why we have to have a 'lection. 'Cause it's not clear."

Ben and Ethan looked at each other, and the young Reynolds rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Go on then."

Bethie beamed and handed out the slips, quickly having to stop Cal putting his in his mouth.

"There's only two names," Ben pointed out, reading it carefully. Luckily, Bethie had written it very big.

"That's right. Ethan and me. They're the nominations."

"Why?"

She was beginning to get really fed up with that word. "Because Caleb's too young, so's Jesse, and Hope ain't interested, and neither are –"

"I am." He looked at her, his grey eyes shining in his coffee face. "I want to be on the list."

"Why?" she asked, then slammed her mouth shut.

"Why not?" He could be just as stubborn as his mother sometimes. "Like Ethan said, my Momma's First –"

"Fine!" Bethie's raised voice had Simon looking out at them, but she smiled sweetly at him and he went back to counting his supplies, even if it was a trifle warily. "Fine." She snatched back the ballot papers and added Ben's name in angry, spiky handwriting. "Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

Handing them out again, she went on, "So now we all put a cross next to the person we want to be in charge."

Ben stood up. "Not going to let you watch."

"Why? What do you think I'd do?"

"Make me vote for you."

She sighed heavily. This wasn't going at all to plan. "Shiny. Then we all go to different corners and vote there."

He nodded, his dark curly hair bobbing slightly. "Back in a minute."

Hope slid off the chair. "I'll take Jesse. See who she wants to vote for," she said, taking the little girl by the hand.

"I'll look after Cal," Ethan agreed, clambering to his feet and grabbing the young Cobb by the back of his shirt.

"'than?" Caleb asked, his ballot paper somewhat soggy already.

"Come on."

Bethie watched them head off to the other side of the room, and wondered why they thought she was going to make the youngest of Serenity's children vote for her. Then she shook her head and leaned over the table, her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as, her arm wrapped around so nobody could see, she put a large black **X** by her name.

* * *

"You can't do that here!" Cromwell was almost shouting, gesticulating with his clipboard so close to Jayne's face it was a wonder he hadn't rapped him on the nose.

"It's in the rules," Jayne said, trying to keep his temper, even though his voice was as loud. "Those rules you're so gorram proud of."

"But it's not … you haven't fulfilled the criteria."

The big man took a breath, forced his fists to uncurl, and said, as quietly as possible, "What?"

Mal and Freya hurried over. "What's going on?" he asked.

"This _hwoon _…" Jayne stopped, took a breath. "He won't let us set up."

"Why not?"

"That's just what I'm trying to find out."

Mal turned on Cromwell. "So? Why ain't you letting Zoe here do what's in her constitutional rights to do?"

"Because there aren't enough of her!" Cromwell realised what he'd said, and turned red. "I meant, there needs to be at least two candidates wishing to campaign. And no-one's ever done it before, not here on –"

"Here on Jericho, yeah, I get it." Mal looked at Zoe standing next to Kaylee and Hank, the pilot's arm around the young mechanic, who looked almost close to tears. _Must be those hormones again_, he thought. _And she ain't the only one._ "Look, if it makes you feel any better, we can let the others know. And if they want, they can come play. Ain't that the point of free will?"

"It doesn't work like that!" Cromwell was more than stubborn. "You have to ask for written permission, then send a formal request to all candidates to attend … you can't just set up and expect to get away with it!"

Freya had been standing back, her head slightly on one side, her brow furrowed, looking at nothing in particular. "That's not true," she said now.

"What?" Cromwell glared at her.

"There's a clause in the codicil to the rules, put in after just such an occasion as this started a riot on Linken."

Everyone stared at her, but it was Mal got his mouth working first. "What clause, _ai ren_?"

Freya didn't speak for a moment, then said, as if repeating something she was hearing, "That if, during the last four days running up to the election, two of the official candidates make a verbal request to the Presiding Officer –" She looked pointedly at Cromwell. "That's you." She went back to the slightly sing-song voice. "– then that Officer has to allow an ad hoc debate to occur at a place and time of their choosing." Freya smiled. "And that's here. And now."

_River?_ Mal thought pointedly.

_She read the rules._ Freya's mouth twitched at the corners.

"But … but …" Cromwell tried to get the words out. "But there's only one of you!"

"No, there isn't." Mercy Fischer walked out of the gathering crowd, her colour high but her shoulders determined. "I'm an official candidate, and I'm saying we need that debate. Here and now."

Mal was glad he wasn't taking Cromwell's blood pressure at that moment in time, because it was probably sky high. "Looks like we've fulfilled those criteria of yours," he said jovially.

Cromwell was holding his clipboard so tightly to his chest that his knuckles had gone white. "I … there's …" He pulled himself together. "I shall go and check the regulations. If I find you've circumvented them in any way I shall have no alternative but request the presence of the local Federal Commander to break up this gathering and bind you all into custody." He turned sharply on his heel and hurried back towards the Election Offices, barely able to stop himself from breaking into a run.

Mal grinned and slapped his hands together. "That went well," he said.

Freya slid her arm through his. "You just like to upset the establishment."

"Hey, a little revolution once in a while is a good thing." He leaned over and put a surprisingly chaste kiss on her cheek, then looked at Mercy. "I think you came along just at the right time."

"I wasn't going to come at all," the young woman admitted. "Then I thought about what you said yesterday, about it being beholden to all of us to try and put right something wrong if we see it." She gave a shaky smile. "So here I am."

Zoe walked forward. "I'm glad."

Mercy went pinker.

"Okay, people," Kaylee said loudly. "Time to get this show on the road."

"Quite right, _mei-mei_," Mal agreed. "What do you want us to do?"

Kaylee couldn't have grinned wider. "Been waitin' all my life for you to say that, Cap!"

He laughed. "Just remember I ain't at my full health yet."

"Really?" She looked him up and down. "That ain't what I heard this morning from your bunk ..."

"I swear I'm gonna get the boat soundproofed," Mal said, shaking his head but not losing his good humour. "For the sake of my sanity if nothing else ..."

Kaylee soon had them working, and the crowd grew bigger, some going away and telling their friends, then coming back. It didn't matter where a body was in the 'verse, Mal mused, but they loved a spectacle. Especially if there was the possibility of violence.

From the corner of his eye he saw Leo Gunn sidle out of the press of people, heading towards where Kaylee was directing Jayne to attach one of the speakers to a conveniently placed metal stanchion.

"Just hold it there," she was saying, laying the cable along the ground. "I'll get the fixings and ... oh, hi." She smiled warmly at Leo.

"You shoulda told me what you were planning on doing, little Kaylee," he said. "I wouldn't'a charged you for the gear."

"That's okay," she said. "And if you're that guilty you can always buy it back again after."

He chuckled. "Maybe I will. But I got something back at the yard might be a good extra."

"Oh?" Kaylee plugged the cable into the small generator, turning her face away from the small shower of sparks. "What's that?"

"Well, I happen to have this Cortex recorder," he said, glancing around to make sure they weren't overheard. "Nice little piece, works a treat. I can link it straight into the public access sites, so if I set it up here, your friend's campaigning is gonna be waved all over the planet."

Kaylee's eyes grew wide. "You'd do that?"

"For you?" He put his hand on her shoulder and grinned, showing the gaps in his teeth. "For Eddie Frye's girl? Anything."

"That sounds real shiny," Kaylee said excitedly. "Only don't tell Zoe. Least, don't tell Mercy. I ain't sure she wouldn't take to the hills if she knew."

"Just give me a few minutes to go get it."

"Thanks, Leo!"

He nodded at her and disappeared into the crowd again.

"Um, Kaylee?" Jayne tried to get her attention. "My arms are getting tired?"

"Oh, sorry," Kaylee said, hurrying as much as her condition would allow.

* * *

"Here." Ben held out his ballot paper. "All done."

"Ours too," Hope agreed, putting hers and Jesse's onto the table.

"And mine," Ethan said. "Sorry, but Cal ate his."

Bethie shrugged. "Counts as a spoiled vote."

"'Less you wanna wait a day or two," the little boy went on, his nose crinkling. "Though I ain't going through his diaper."

Bethie didn't dignify that with an answer, just smoothed the slips out. "Huh."

"What?" Ethan studied them with her.

Of the five remaining papers, one was clearly marked with a cross next to Ben's name, two were marked up for Ethan and one for Bethie. The last had a very accurate pencil sketch of the little girl next to Bethie's name.

Hope grinned. "That's mine," she said, then glanced at Ben. "Sorry."

"S'okay," he said, holding her hand. "She's your sis. It's allowed."

"So that's two each," Ethan said, looking up at Bethie. "Now what?"

Bethie thought for a moment. "We vote again."

"And how's that gonna be any different?"

"Just you and me. Two names."

"And Cal'll eat his again – he liked the taste. And I'll vote for me, you'll vote for you, Jesse'll vote for me, Hope'll vote for you …" His eyes moved to Ben. "Looks like it'd be up to you," he said to his friend.

"Casting vote," Bethie agreed, remembering Auntie Frey talking about just that option.

"Me?" Benjamin Malcolm Hoban Mills squeaked, and felt his heart sink.

"You're it," Ethan said.

"You get to decide who's in charge," Bethie explained more fully, moving forward.

"I get that." Ben backed up. He knew who he wanted to vote for, because Ethan was his pal. But self-preservation suggested he might be better off –

"No." It was River, standing at the turn of the stairs, looking down at them. "The game's over." She walked down towards them, her bare feet making no sound as usual. "No more elections."

"But there has to be a leader," Bethie insisted.

River smiled. "Of course. But it depends on what the situation is." She slid into one of the easy chairs.

"I don't understand."

River lifted Caleb off the floor and onto her lap, where he immediately began to play with the bullet on the chain around her neck. "Mal is the Captain. But if someone is hurt, my brother takes over. And if there's a problem with the engine, then Kaylee is in charge."

"And if we're having to get away from Reavers …" Bethie said slowly, not liking where this was going.

"Then Hank is the leader."

"But –"

"How old are you?" River asked, as if she'd forgotten.

Bethie was caught off guard for a second. "Six."

"Is that all?"

"Six. And a half."

"How old am I?"

"Auntie River …"

"How old is Caleb's daddy?"

Bethie slumped in her chair. "I know."

"Do you?"

"We're just kids."

"Yes, you are. And you can run and jump and play and fight and do all those things that grown-ups get told off doing."

"Still do them," Bethie said, her voice quiet but still with a trace of belligerence in it.

"Yes, we do." River smiled. "But if someone tried to take Cal away from us, what would you do?"

The little girl sat up straighter. "Fight 'em," she said.

"Exactly. Because he's your brother."

"Serenity brother."

"Yes." River looked at her. "Do you understand?"

Bethie sighed. "Yes, Auntie River." Then a shrewd look crossed her face. "Can I still tell them what to do?"

River laughed, a giggle so like the girl she had once been before she ever became the woman that it made Simon look out of the infirmary at her, and grin widely. "Of course you can. That doesn't stop. But sometimes they'll tell you what to do too, and you have to do it. That's why it's called a democracy."

"A dem … what?"

River stood up. "Ask your Auntie Frey at the next lessons. I'm sure she'll be glad to explain." With Caleb on her hip, she walked to the stairs. "Now, who's for …" Her voice faded away and she stood silently, her eyes unfocused.

"Auntie River?" Bethie prompted.

"River, are you all right?" Simon hurried to his sister's side.

A slow smile grew across her face. "Bethie, do you know where Auntie Frey keeps the portable Cortex link?"

Bethie nodded. "In the cupboard in the kitchen."

"Then go and get it out." She looked up at Simon. "Things are about to get interesting."

* * *

And interesting it was. By the time they were ready the square was filled with people, and the small cafés were doing roaring business selling coffee and other refreshments.

"You ready for this?" Zoe asked, looking down into Mercy's violet eyes.

"No."

"Me neither. But let's give 'em a good show."

Mercy nodded, then caught hold of Zoe's arm. "I ... don't know what to say."

"Say what you think. What you think of me, coming here, making waves. About my history."

"I couldn't do that!" Mercy was shocked at the very idea.

"You can, and you must." Zoe looked past her towards the audience, waiting for the fireworks to begin. "There's a good few women out there, maybe more than half. And they want to hear what you have to tell them. They need you, Mercy. More'n they know." Zoe had seen Leo surreptitiously setting his Cortex recorder in place, half hidden behind some foliage but getting a good view. Not that she was about to frighten the young woman in front of her even more. "Just tell them what's in your heart."

"You think?"

"I know."

When it was all over, none of the Firefly's crew could be certain exactly what was said, although River kept a memory tab hidden safely amongst her trinkets in case anyone ever asked.

Zoe used some of the speech so painstakingly written for her, putting the case for women to have the right to decide their futures for themselves clearly, concisely, winning over more than a few waverers to the cause.

But it was Mercy who was the revelation. She had obviously taken good note of Zoe's words, because she let her own flow. And if she made her opponent seem a little tarnished, it was done with subtlety and wit, not overtly criticising, but making it plain that Jericho Wells needed a Jericho-born, not someone who just happened to land at the wrong time.

"You know," Mal said to Freya standing at the edge of the crowd, "I think maybe we've created a monster."

"She's a natural," his wife said. "It just had to be let loose."

"Kinda what I said."

Freya nudged him. "Look."

He half-turned. "Ah. Think they're gonna complain?"

It was Polly Adams and Bea Jarvis, huddled together, their forms radiating tension as they talked quietly.

"I don't see how." She glanced at Zoe, who was rebutting some of Mercy's claims. "They could just as easily join in if they wanted."

Anger was evident on Polly's pinched, thin face, and her finger was poking at her companion.

"Maybe they figure it's a real competition now, 'stead of just a game," Mal suggested.

"Then that's all to the good." She didn't sound convinced, though.

"_Ai ren_?" Mal dropped his head to look into her face. "What is it?"

"I'm ... not sure." Freya's forehead wrinkled. "Just a taste ... it's probably nothing."

"Well, it ain't like the crowd is armed." He looked around at the wide variety of expressions on the faces of the people watching the debate.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Freya said slowly. "I am. So are you. And Jayne. I'm pretty sure Zoe's got something tucked in her boot. That's four of us. I can't say I'd be surprised to find most of the Jericho men have something on them."

Mal stirred uneasily. "Maybe we should warn Mercy, make sure she has someone to keep an eye on her."

"Good idea."


	17. Chapter 17

"Are you hiding?" Kaylee asked, stepping around Jayne to find Zoe in the shadows of one of the trees.

"Me?"

"Yeah. You."

"I don't hide."

"Right. Only you're giving a damn good impression of it right now."

"If it's all the same to you, I don't really fancy having my fine features waved all over the planet," Zoe said.

"Never thought I'd see you running scared," Jayne commented, then wondered whether he should have taken a step out of punching range before speaking.

But Zoe surprised him. "Not running. I'm standing right here being scared."

Jayne grinned.

"Honey?" Hank approached. "There's a nice man from Channel 8 wants to have a word with you about …" He saw her face. "Ah. I'll just tell him no, then, shall I?"

"Thank you, sweetie."

* * *

At last nobody else wanted to talk to either of the candidates, the local Cortex crews had gone, and the crowd was dispersing. Mercy collapsed, rather unceremoniously, into one of the spindly metal chairs outside a café, and fanned her face. "_Diyu_, but that was …" Her violet eyes were so wide they seemed to tint the surrounding trees.

"Yeah." Zoe smiled and joined her, a little less forcefully.

"I never thought I could …" Mercy looked at her new friend. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"Showing me I had something to give."

"You did good," Zoe said approvingly. A waiter approached carrying a tray. "Thanks, but we ain't ordering."

The waiter, a young man, smiled at them both, his eyes lingering a moment on Mercy longer than on Zoe. "It's all right, ma'am," he said politely. "This is compliments of the management." He placed the tray on the table, and they could see it contained a jug of iced tea complete with mint leaves, and two tall glasses. "May I?"

Zoe felt a grin suffuse her face. "Don't mind if you do."

He poured, then smiled once more at Mercy before walking back inside.

"I think you've got an admirer." Zoe picked up one of the glasses, feeling the slick of condensation on her fingers.

"Who, Dean?"

"You know him?"

"Since we were in school together." Mercy lifted the other glass.

"Be nice to him."

"Why?"

"Try." Zoe took a sip, and the cold liquid slid down her throat like it was the finest champagne.

Mercy was still confused, but drank. "Oh, wow."

"I second that." She relaxed a little into the chair.

Over at the impromptu staging area, the others were taking the equipment down, under the watchful eye of the Election Officer, Cromwell.

"Every bit," he was saying. "And if you've as much as scratched the flagstones, you'll pay for their replacement."

Mal looked at him from under his eyebrows, blowing a sweaty lock of hair out of his eyes. "You get a lot of enjoyment out of being like this?" he asked.

"It's my job," Cromwell asserted.

"And I think you do it pretty well."

Cromwell's chest swelled, then he wondered exactly what it was this man was complimenting him on. He huffed and moved away to where Kaylee was supervising Hank loading up the mule to do a bit of supervising of his own. Mal didn't give much for his chances.

Jayne glanced to where Zoe and Mercy were sitting in the shade. "You know, we're the ones doing the humpin', and they get treated like royalty," he complained.

Mal twisted to see, then felt something pull in his chest and decided not to do it again. "Next time, you can stand for Parliament, okay?"

"Got that right," the big man grumbled.

Mal felt Freya take the reel of cable from his hands and he looked at her in surprise. "_Ai ren_?" he asked quietly.

"No. Rest."

He leaned down a little so they were eye to eye. "You always gonna look after me?"

"As long as you do what you're told."

"Almost worth it, _xin gan_." He smiled. "Almost." He reached for the reel.

"No," she said again.

"I insist."

"I'll cry. Blame it on hormones."

"You're not pregnant."

"Maybe Kaylee's catching."

The woman in question started to tap her foot as she waited for the next load, and Mal looked up. "Better not. She's getting restless."

"Then get something lighter." Freya heaved the reel onto the mule, grunting with the effort.

Mal looked around, then bent suddenly. "This okay?" He'd picked up one of the plastic ties his mechanic had used to attach one of the speakers.

Freya crinkled her nose at him, but said, "That's fine."

Mercy grinned at the antics, an odd lassitude spreading through her muscles. She sipped the tea and said, "You know, I could get used to this."

Zoe shook her head. "Don't forget, we've got that meeting tomorrow night, ahead of the big day."

A huge sigh, much bigger than seemed possible from the size of her, wound its way out of her mouth. "Don't remind me."

"Hey, come on. Compared to this, you're not gonna have any problems."

"Yes, but the others will be there."

"There was nothing stopping them speaking today, either. In fact, I thought I saw a couple."

"Bea and Polly, yes."

Zoe was surprised. She'd thought all her opponent's concentration had been on the job in hand. "Are you worried about them?"

"No." Except it didn't sound honest.

"Mercy …"

"It's nothing."

Zoe didn't push. If the young woman wanted to say, she'd be willing and ready to hear. "Okay."

Mercy's eyes fell on the clock above the entrance to one of the other buildings, and her mouth dropped open slightly. "Is that really the time?"

Zoe had been aware of the passage of the sun like the efficient soldier she was, and knew it was well into the afternoon. "That's what happens when you're a celebrity," she said with a smile. "Everyone wants a piece of you."

"Not literally, I hope."

"I find keeping a well-oiled shotgun handy does the trick."

Mercy giggled. "And I'm not a celebrity."

"You're about as close to one as they get around here." Zoe glanced over towards the mule, now stacked high with their gear. "You gonna come back with us to Serenity?" she offered. "The meal might be pot-luck, but you're more than welcome."

"No. I have to get home. But thanks."

_Go with her._

Zoe looked up in surprise, seeing Freya gazing at her. The older Reader hardly ever dropped thoughts into her mind, so it was something of a shock. _Problems? _she thought as hard as she could.

Freya winced. _Not so loud. And just keep an eye on Mercy. Just in case._

_Yao de._

"Then we can talk some more on the way." She stood up.

"I don't need to be accompanied," Mercy complained, still slightly high on the exhilaration. "I've been going around by myself for a little while now."

"I just want to see you home. In case that celebrity thing rears its head again."

"I told you, I'm not a celebrity."

"Then maybe I just want more of your company." She smiled, but it was the smile of a person who just knew they were going to get their own way. "Humour me."

* * *

The mule trundled up the ramp, Kaylee on board and Freya driving, Hank and Mal bringing up the rear on foot.

"Don't tell me," Simon said from the back of the cargo bay. "You've finally had enough of Jayne and buried him somewhere."

Mal chuckled. "Not quite. He had some things to do in town."

"Is Zoe with him? I wanted to congratulate her on the fine performance."

Kaylee climbed carefully off the mule, rubbing her aching back. "You watched?"

"River got the portable Cortex out." He grinned. "We saw the whole show."

"She's seeing Mercy home," Freya said, backing the mule into its normal position in the corner of the bay. "But I don't think she's going to be in the mood for congratulations."

"But she did so good," Hank said, wiping his perspiring face on his sleeve. "I think she deserves a medal."

"Oh, I agree. But I'd give it a little while before she shoots you."

"She won't shoot me."

"No?" Freya started to unload.

"Leave it," Mal ordered. "It ain't gonna do any harm to put it away tomorrow. 'Sides, I think we'll be needing some of it again, from what River's deigned to tell us about her plans."

She dropped the sack of oddments back. "I just don't want it cluttering the place up."

"You know, for a slob you've got something of a tidy streak a mile wide."

"I've got …" She glared at him, making him laugh.

"Gorramit," Kaylee muttered, checking over the equipment.

"What's up, _mei-mei_?" Mal asked, still chuckling. "Something broke?"

"No. I just didn't give Leo back his stuff."

He put his arm around her shoulders. "I don't doubt we'll be seein' him again 'fore we leave."

A small figure darted out of the shuttle above them. "Caleb, come back here!" River shouted, her voice easily carrying.

The little Cobb peered through the railings. "Daddy?" he asked.

"Whoa, there," Mal said, quickly letting go of Kaylee and moving under the small boy, ready to catch if necessary. "You just hang on there. Don't want you falling. Be messy." His eyes narrowed. "You naked?"

River ran out of the shuttle doorway, rubbing at her face with a towel before scooping her son up into her arms. "I was getting his bath ready, when he splashed soap into my face," she explained, checking him over to make sure he wasn't hurt.

"Just like his dad," Hank said happily. "Getting into trouble even as a stripling."

Cal patted his mother's face. "Momma," he stated, and grinned widely.

"That doesn't make it better," she said sternly.

"Are you lying to him, considering his tender years?" Mal grinned as he looked up at the pair of them. "You know as well as I do that he's got you wrapped around his little fist."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does …" Her face stilled, her eyes unfocusing.

Mal was immediately on the defensive, knowing that expression of old. "What? What is it?" He turned to look at Freya, equally distracted. "Frey?"

She pulled herself back to the here and now. "Zoe." Without another word she was out of the cargo bay, running, knowing Mal and Hank were at her heels.

* * *

"How did you get to be on board Serenity?" Mercy asked as they headed towards her home.

Zoe shrugged. "The captain … well, he wasn't captain then, just an ex-sergeant … he bought her. Didn't tell me anything about it until it was too late."

"Was it a surprise?"

"You could say that." Zoe smiled as she remembered the look on his face, like a little boy showing off his latest toy. And her comment about him being robbed. _"It's a piece of fei-oo."_ She'd revised that opinion eventually, around about the time he'd taken her up to the bridge and showed her the windows that would soon be filled with stars. His enthusiasm, even dampened by what they'd been through, was infectious …

"And you never thought of not going?" Mercy side-stepped a small child running along, called back to her father in a peremptory tone.

"Didn't even occur to me."

"Were you and he … did you …" Her cheeks flamed.

Zoe laughed. "I can't say that _didn't_ occur to me, but no. We never slept together. Timing was always wrong. He was my sarge, then my captain."

"And now you're married."

"There was another husband in between. Wash. He was a flyboy too."

"What happened to him?"

"He died."

Mercy picked up that Zoe was wary of talking about her previous marriage, so said instead, "Do you always go for pilots?"

"Oddly enough, no. I hated the pair of them for a long time. Not at the same time, a'course, but …" She chuckled at the idea of them fighting over her. "For two men so different, they have their similarities."

"Like you."

"Like me."

Mercy turned down a side street, away from the main thoroughfares. Here the houses were smaller, flatboard mostly, with tiny pocket handkerchief-sized gardens ablaze with flowers. Every door and window was closed, though, but whether it was against people who might want to look in or to keep out the insects buzzing around the blooms was debateable.

"And you have a son?"

"Mmn. Ben."

Mercy shook her head. "I doubt I'll ever get married. There's no-one around here who'd be willing to take me on."

"No, now, no talk like that. Anybody would be proud to have you on their arm. Besides, there's always Dean."

"Dean?" Despite the fact that she was a grown woman, it looked like Mercy retained her youthful naivety. "He's … he's far too … I don't …"

"Like I said before. Try."

Mercy turned down a wide alleyway that ran behind and between the buildings, even as Zoe had to smile. "This is a shortcut," she explained, glad the shadows were hiding the blush raging across her skin. "Otherwise it's a good ten minutes more."

Something moved ahead, just a shifting in one of the darker areas, but Zoe's smile faded. She glanced behind them, her hand automatically going to her hip and coming up empty. She couldn't be sure, but was that shade another figure?

"Mercy, I want you to run when I say so."

The young woman stared at her. "What?"

"You're going to run. Soon as I tell you."

"Why? What is it?" She looked scared.

Then it was too late as five men oozed from the gloom, what little light there was glinting off a couple of knuckledusters.

"You're not going anywhere," one of them said. "Not yet. Maybe not ever."


	18. Chapter 18

"Boys, I don't know who you think we are, but you're wrong," Zoe said, her eyes flicking between the five men threatening her and Mercy, her experience settling on the one in front of her as the leader, but the one at her back as most likely to turn and run if the occasion demanded. She settled herself more squarely on her feet.

"Oh, we've got the right ones. Saw you down in the square. Stirring up trouble."

"We were having a perfectly legitimate debate," Mercy put in, her voice cracking with apprehension.

"Nope. Stirring things up." He took a step forward. "Making people question the natural order of things. Making them think maybe there's another way. That we're backwards here on Jericho."

"Well, this ain't hardly the _civilised_ way of doing things," Zoe said. "Waylaying two innocent women on their way home? What will the law say?"

"The law?" The man was suddenly in her face. "The law isn't going to find out."

The look in his eyes gave her such a premonition that Zoe wondered if she was the one catching the psychic gene now. "Let Mercy go."

"No!" the young woman in question protested, even though her heart was beating a thousand times a minute.

"Why would we do that?" the man wanted to know.

Zoe's voice dropped a level as she made the mental leap. "Because we both know I'm the one you're being paid to rough up."

He grinned. "P'raps you're right."

"Then let her leave."

"I'm not going anywhere without you!" Mercy shouted.

"You will," Zoe said.

"Maybe you've got us pegged, but the truth is, no-one's going anywhere," the man said, his face pulled into a sneer. "Neither of you. You're both as bad as each other, teasing us, making us think you're so easy, then not giving it."

Zoe stared at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "All women are whores." He flexed his hand inside the knuckleduster.

"We're not afraid of you," Mercy squeaked.

He turned on her. "You should be."

Now, while his attention was diverted, while he was still intent on scaring, not hurting. Zoe pushed Mercy to one side and kicked out at the man behind her, feeling as well as hearing her heel making contact with his crotch. He fell away, keening as he grabbed at the affection portion, out of the fight.

She hadn't waited, her foot barely touching back to the ground before her fist buried itself in the leader's belly. Or at least tried to. He was more muscular than he looked, and the impact merely made him stagger, and he brought his own fist down onto her cheek, the knuckleduster splitting the skin.

At first the pain didn't register, but it dazed her long enough for the others to pile in. There was a kick to her ribs, another to her hip, but she rolled into them, not giving them time to co-ordinate. Swinging her legs out she caught one of them behind the thighs, felling him like a tree into the others, catching him in the temple with her heel and turning his lights out.

As the others disentangled themselves, she took the opportunity to get her feet under her, jumping into a crouch, but she got a knee under her chin for her pains. Her teeth slamming together, she briefly saw stars, then she shook it off, launching herself upwards and feeling her skull make contact. One of her assailants cried out, blood pumping from a shattered nose, splashing her shirt.

"Zoe, down!"

She didn't think, just dropped, her abused ribs shouting out their discomfort, but the knife meant for her back embedded itself in the wall instead, and she heard the wet sound of a fist getting acquainted with more than one victim. Rolling onto her back, she saw her rescuer, almost blocking the light. "Jayne?"

"Just out for a walk," the big man explained, tossing the attackers he still held into the wall. They slid down into a heap, out for the count.

Zoe stood up carefully, favouring her side. "Thanks. And couldn't you have stepped in just a little quicker?"

Jayne grinned. "Nah, you were doing too well on your own. And I'm all for this women's equality stuff. Means I can just stand back and let you deal." He saw her wince. "You okay?"

"I've had worse."

"Yeah, some of those hickeys I've seen you got from Hank … gorram life-threatening."

The man on the ground in front of him groaned, and Jayne idly kicked him back into unconsciousness.

Zoe stood as straight as her burgeoning bruises would allow. "Come on. We'd better be getting back before someone calls the Feds."

"And have them having to explain how come they were lying in wait with guns?"

"Guns?"

Jayne leaned over and pulled the leader's jacket to one side. "Felt it when I punched 'im." There, in a shoulder holster very like Freya's, was a small snub-nosed pistol. "Just 'cause he figured he'd rather use his fists on you, don't mean he ain't carrying. Something like that'd leave a nasty hole."

"That it would. And the knife wouldn't have been much better." She looked around. "Mercy?"

"Here." The young woman stood up from behind a trash can. "Are you ..."

"I'm fine." Zoe dabbed at the blood still flowing down her cheek from the cut under her eye. "You?"

Mercy caught sight of the unconscious and disabled bodies, and her hand flew to her mouth. "I'm sorry. I hid. I didn't know what to –"

"No, you were right. Best to leave the fighting to them as knows how to."

She was still looking down. "You said they'd been paid. Who by?"

Zoe and Jayne exchanged a glance, and the big man shook his head slightly.

"Not sure," Zoe said. "But we appear to've upset some folk."

Jayne looked down at the young woman, seeming to dwarf her. "You're coming with us," he said, making it an order and not a request.

"No. I'm going home."

"It's not safe for you to –"

She poked him in the chest, feeling the hard-packed muscles not giving an inch. "I said I'm going home. They're not going to make me leave."

He was somewhat surprised, if truth be told. She was no bigger than River, even with her extra curves, but she was standing up to him. His lips twitched in respect. "Look, Miss Mercy, it ain't that. We just wanna make sure you're still alive to stand against Zoe here come election day."

"I will be fine. I have my daddy's old shotgun under the bed, and if anyone comes calling who shouldn't … well, right now I'm inclined to shoot first and ask questions later."

He let a chuckle roll around his ribcage. "You got some _jing chao_ on you, that's for sure."

She pinked up prettily.

Zoe stepped forward, favouring her ribs. "Mercy's right, Jayne," she said. "She can't let this put her out of her home."

Jayne stared at her, like the world was upside down. Zoe was usually the first one to offer protection to a body that needed it, male or female, even giving Mal a run for his money sometimes, but here she was being … The penny dropped. Oh, wait. There must be something else. He blinked. "If'n you think so, Zoe."

"I do."

Mercy nodded. "Good." Then her knees seemed to give way, and if Jayne hadn't caught her she'd have been on the ground next to their attackers.

"Where's your house?" Zoe asked.

"Not far," Mercy said faintly. "Up to the end, turn left. It's got a yellow front door and a Japanese Maple in the front."

"Jayne."

"No problem. She don't weigh much."

They were almost at the house when they heard running footsteps behind them coming along the alleyway. Jayne was ready to drop Mercy to the ground, albeit as gently as he could manage, equally ready to draw Betsey from under his T, when he saw Freya round the corner, coming to a staggering halt as Mal and Hank almost ran into the back of her. They all three of them looked much relieved.

"Honey, you okay?" Hank asked, hurrying to his wife's side, touching the graze on her jaw, the swelling already appearing at the corner of her eye, skimming over the cut still bleeding on her cheek.

She winced. "I'll live."

"Glad of that."

She smiled for him. "Just a little bruised."

"Arnica."

"What?"

"Arnica. My gran always used to say it was the best thing for bruises. I think there was a year I went around smelling of the stuff every single day." He was talking too much, he knew, but it was simply worry. "Although it did occur to me that maybe that was the reason everyone kept picking on me, but I couldn't really tell my gran –"

"Stop." Zoe's tone was warm, low. "I'm fine. Honestly."

"And you'll be even better once you've been poked and prodded by our young doctor," Mal promised. He looked at Jayne. "Did you do that back there?" he asked, nodding over his shoulder towards the alley.

Jayne shrugged, an interesting manoeuvre since he was still holding Mercy. "Me and Zoe. 'Bout fifty-fifty."

"Nice job."

"Thanks."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hank was still fussing over his wife.

"I'm shiny. But we're making something of a spectacle of ourselves out here."

Mercy fished inside the pocket of her dress, holding out what she found. "The key," she said. "Let's get inside. And you can put me down." This last was to Jayne.

"My missus'd skin me if she thought I was being anything less than a gentleman," Jayne said, keeping a tight hold. "You just sit still 'til we're indoors."

Freya took the key and opened up. "Come on. Before someone decides to take an unhealthy interest in us." Everyone filed in and she closed the door after them.

Mercy immediately started to wriggle in Jayne's arms. "Put me down," she ordered.

This time he did as he was told, placing her on her feet on the floor as gently as if onto a feather bed. "There you go."

"Thank you." Now her entire attitude changed. She became more assertive, making Zoe sit down while she got out a bowl for water, some antiseptic and weaves. As she worked, Mal took Jayne to one side, out of earshot.

"Okay. Tell me," Serenity's captain ordered.

The big man nodded, keeping his voice low. "Frey asked me to keep an eye on things," he explained, glancing at the woman herself, watching as Mercy cleaned Zoe up.

Mal nodded. He'd seen them both, just for a second before Jayne had said he needed to run a few errands, and somehow, after her feeling a mite twitchy previously, it made sense. "Go on."

"There were five of 'em. And Zoe nearly had 'em, Mal," he said, a surprising amount of admiration slipping from his words. "If there'd been maybe one less, I wouldn't'a needed to butt in at all."

"Any idea who they were?"

"I didn't exactly hang around to go through their pockets."

"You're slipping, Jayne."

"Must be Riv's influence." He barely curved his lips. "Don't mean I don't have an idea who was responsible, though." He paused.

"You planning on waiting around until I get too old to care?"

Jayne walked further away, making Mal follow him in order to continue the conversation. When the big man was happy, he spoke again. "As I headed into the alley, I saw someone."

"Who?"

"That Jarvis woman. The other candidate."

Mal brought her quickly to mind. Bea Jarvis. Stocky, aggressive, and according to Zoe apparently more than ready to sort most things out physically. "You sure?"

"I never forget a face, Mal."

"Maybe she was just taking a shortcut herself."

"Then why was she looking so furtive?" Jayne countered. "Like she was trying to get away without being seen?"

"Do you think she'd pay to have 'em attacked?"

"I wouldn't know. Prob'ly have to ask Mercy 'bout that."

"Not planning on it."

"Then I reckon Mercy needs to come back with us. Keep her safe."

Mal shook his head. "We've got things to do she needs not be a part of. She ain't a member of the crew, Jayne."

"No. But she's Zoe's friend. I reckon that means something."

"Just like Leo's little Kaylee's pal, and they both gotta live here after. Best she don't get too close."

"Just don't feel right, is all." He watched as the young woman put weaves on Zoe's cheek. "It's just a coupla days, I guess," he added, but he didn't sound convinced.

Mal gazed at his ex-merc. "You're really worried about her."

"She just ..."

"What?"

Jayne lifted his chin defiantly. "Reminds me of my Ma, is all. There're a couple of captures when she was young. Mercy just ... something about her."

Mal smiled slightly. "You really are a changed man."

"Like I said, must be moonbrain's influence," he grunted and walked away to stare out of the window.

Mal moved back towards the small group, where Mercy was finishing up. He waited, pondering the situation, until the young woman tossed the soiled water down the sink and stood facing them, wiping her hands on a cloth.

Tucking his thumbs into his suspenders, Mal said, "Mercy, much as it pains me to admit it, but maybe Jayne's right. It might be you'd be safer coming back to Serenity with us."

Zoe looked surprised.

"No," Mercy said. "Like I said, no-one's scaring me out of my home."

"There's no guarantee they won't come after you again."

"It wasn't Mercy, sir," Zoe put in. "It was me. They pretty much admitted it."

"And they ain't under lock and key. I conjure they're gonna be pretty riled that you got away, and they ended up bloodied. What's to stop them taking it out on Mercy here?"

"I agree, but –"

"I know we've got things planned, but we can make room for one more."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Mercy almost stamped her foot in frustration, two spots of high colour in her cheeks. "I'm not leaving my house!"

"Mercy –" Mal began, but she wouldn't let him finish.

"No. You don't get it. I have to live here when you're gone, and I can't do that if I run off as soon as there's any kind of trouble." She shook her head. "I know you mean well, and I am grateful. But this is my home. And nothing and nobody is going to make me change my mind."

Mal held up a hand, smiling slightly as he recognised his own stubbornness in someone else. "Okay, Mercy. Ain't gonna make you do something you don't want."

"Well, good."

"Except you ain't staying here on your own." He looked around. "Where's Jayne?"

"He ... uh ... had to pop out," Freya said, then shrugged at her husband's look. "Don't worry. I'll stay until he gets back."

Mal raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't comment.

Mercy did, though. "I don't need a babysitter."

Freya took the two paces to be at the younger woman's side, putting her arm around her shoulders. "Honestly? Just say yes. It'll be easier. When Mal digs his heels in like this it's better and less messy to go along with it. And Jayne's okay. Just make sure he stays out of the kitchen unless you want to be eaten out of house and home."

"Won't be object?" Mercy asked. "I mean, being ordered to stay here."

"He does what I tell him," Mal put in, then added, at Freya and Zoe's looks, "Most of the time."

"Then we'd better get you home," Hank said, putting his hand under Zoe's elbow.

"I ain't an invalid," she protested, but only mildly as she allowed him to assist her to her feet.

"Honey, you get to look after me often enough. Just let me do it this time, okay?"

She smiled at him, the tenderest of expressions on her face. "Shiny."

"You go on ahead," Mal said. "I want a word with my wife."

Hank nodded. "Yes sir." He manoeuvred Zoe out of the door.

Mal smiled, then slid his arm around Freya's waist, pulling her against him. "Alone at last," he murmured.

"Not quite," Freya pointed out.

"I'll just ... I'll make some tea, shall I?" Mercy backed into the kitchen, away from the display of affection that still made her a little uncomfortable.

"Stop teasing her," Freya admonished.

"She needs to see this is what true love looks like."

"Is that right?"

"Mmn." He grinned. "You going to be all right?"

"Jayne won't be long. Then I'll be back."

He squeezed her a little tighter. "Where did he go, anyway?"

"To have a quiet word with those numbskulls who attacked Zoe."

"They ain't likely to still be there."

Freya chuckled. "Mal, you know as well as I do there's hardly a man around who can out-track Jayne."

"So what's he going to do? Put the fear of Cobb into them?"

"Pretty much. Probably suggest that if they even think of coming anywhere near Mercy ever again, he'll come back and nobody is going to find all the pieces."

"He really likes her."

She tapped his chest. "He likes her because Zoe likes her."

"Should Hank be worried? Or worse? Should River be worried?"

Freya smiled. "Neither. It's been a very long while since Jayne participated in a threesome." She extricated herself from his grasp. "I'll just go help Mercy with the tea."

"What?" He stared as she walked away. "Wait a minute. What are you talking about? And how come you sound like you know?"

* * *

Simon was surprisingly complimentary about the first aid done on Zoe's cheek. "You're going to ache from the other injuries, probably a lot, but nothing's broken," he said after examining her.

"Is it likely to scar?" She touched the skin below the cut.

"I don't think so. Mercy aligned it well, and if I use some skin sealant straight away, there should be minimal surface damage, if any."

"No stitches?"

"Not on this. With the swelling already coming up, it could cause distortion, pulling on the ..." He stopped, aware he was about to spout technical terms again. "It will be better and much more to your benefit to use the sealant."

"You mean I ain't gonna be able to scare folks with my looks?"

"Not this time." He smiled slightly, then busied himself cleaning up the detritus of his examination before starting the next phase.

"Damn," Mal said from the infirmary doorway, having just arrived back and hearing the tail end of the conversation. "And there I was thinking I could use you to be intimidatin'."

"That's what you have Jayne for, sir." Zoe smiled.

"True. Sad, but very true." Mal's eyes twinkled as he crossed to the medbed.

"And I for one am very glad that my Zoe isn't going to be disfigured in any way," Hank said, holding onto his wife's hand. "Not that I'd love her any the less," he added quickly, seeing the expression on her face "Even if she didn't have all the wonderful bits and pieces God gave her, I'd still –"

"Hank."

"Yes, dear?"

"Stop digging."

"Yes, dear."

Mal sighed at their antics, then glanced at the young medic. "So I don't need to be looking for another First Mate?" he asked.

"I think you can put it off for a while," Simon said dryly.

"Good." Mal leaned down, peered at the cut, then into Zoe's dark eyes. "Have to say, they looked worse than you, from what I could see."

"Only thanks to Jayne." She flinched slightly as Simon wiped at the cut again with another cold steriswab.

"Sit still," he commanded. "And Captain? You're in the way."

"Guess I know when I'm not wanted." Mal grinned, taking a step back before saying to Zoe, "You can thank Jayne later."

"Do you think he's going to be able to get anything out of them?" Zoe asked, noticing Simon take a tiny gun-shaped object from a drawer and slot a capsule into one end.

Mal's eyes widened, just a fraction. "How did you know that he ... I had to ask Frey myself."

Zoe shrugged, most of her attention still on the sealant gun Simon was prepping. "I know Jayne."

"Apparently you ain't the only one."

"Sir?"

"Never mind. But to answer your question, yeah. If there's anything to find out, he'll find it."

"So who do you think was behind it?" she asked.

He gazed stoically back. "Who was who?"

"I know you, sir. If you don't know exactly who paid for us to be beaten up, you've got a very good idea."

"Not sure where you get the idea I have an inkling from."

"You ever wonder how come I beat you sometimes at poker?"

"You saying I got a tell I don't know about?"

"Just sometimes. And it's flashing like a neon beacon above your head right about now."

He stared at her, but she didn't back down. "Okay," he finally admitted. "Permaybehaps I do have something of an inkling."

"I think it was Cromwell," Hank put in, watching Simon approach with the skin sealer. "He really hates us."

Zoe shook her head. "He's an idiot, but he's pretty much an honest idiot."

"Sounds like you kinda like him," Mal teased.

"_Chur ni duh_," she said, adding somewhat belatedly, "Sir."

His lips lifted, even as he ignored her cursing him. "But I agree. He might make life as difficult as possible for us, but it'd be legal. Not something as unsubtle as this."

"Then who?" Simon asked, checking the edges of the cut were aligned. "This is going to sting." He adjusted the flow and started to run the microfine nozzle down the raw flesh.

Zoe hissed but didn't move. "It does," she commented.

"Sorry."

"Just get it done."

Simon nodded, quickly finishing. Handing the gun to Hank, who stared at it nervously, he pressed the sides of the cut together, the sealant bonding the sides until there was nothing but a shiny fine line on the skin itself. "Good, good," he said, speaking more to himself than anything. "Your body will absorb the sealant over the next few days, so as long as you don't do anything crazy like getting into another fight, there shouldn't be a problem."

"It wasn't exactly my choice this time, Simon," Zoe pointed out.

He merely raised one eyebrow at her before pressing a clean weave over the top. "Keep it dry as much as possible, and if it starts to hurt, or becomes hot ..."

"I know the drill." She smiled at him. "Thanks."

"It's my job."

"And I'm not at all sure what we'd have done without you, doc," Mal added.

"I imagine you'd have been dead a long time ago," Simon said, clearing up again.

"Prob'ly." Mal went to leave, but Zoe's voice stopped him.

"Who was it, sir?"

He turned, looked at them. "It ain't like I've got proof, least not yet, but Jayne thinks he saw Bea Jarvis just about the time you were being attacked."

"Bea?" Zoe looked surprised, feeling the cut on her cheek pulling slightly. She touched the tender skin around her eye.

"Maybe we'll know more when he gets back." Mal strode out of the infirmary.

"Zoe?" Simon had removed her hand, his fingers delicately palpating the area. "Is it painful? I can do a deeper scan, make sure the bone isn't –"

"It's just a black eye," Zoe said, brushing him off. "It's not the first, and I doubt it'll be the last. And with skin my colour, it won't be that bad."

"Your eye's already closing from the swelling. I can take that down for you, if you like," Simon said, already reaching for another piece of equipment.

"No," Zoe responded.

He stopped, turned back to her. "You might have problems seeing out of it for a day or two," he reminded her.

"No. At least, not yet. Not until after the elections."

"They'll think Hank gave it to you."

Hank looked affronted, but anything he might have said was stopped on his tongue as Zoe slid from the medbed and stood up.

"No, they won't," she said, straightening her clothes. "Because I'm going to make it perfectly clear at the final meeting tomorrow. They're going to know what their precious Jericho Wells is really like."


	19. Chapter 19

Zoe opened her eyes, stared into the darkness above her, then shifted slightly in bed. _Don't do that again_, the little voice in the back of her mind said as a groan forced itself past her lips. Muscles she wasn't even aware she had were complaining, and her ribs were backing them up in far too loud a fashion.

Moving to try and see the clock out of the one eye that wasn't almost swollen shut, she had to bite back on another moan that threatened to erupt. _Told you_. She glanced to one side – at least Hank wasn't in bed next to her to hear her being weak. _Not weak,_ the voice put in again. _Not your fault._

No. This time it was someone else's, and she had to smile as she remembered Freya's return, even though it tugged on the sealed cut on her cheek.

Freya had finally arrived back just as everyone was sitting down to supper.

"You were gone long enough. I was starting to wonder if I maybe needed to send a rescue party. Jayne okay about staying?" Mal asked, moving up slightly to make room for her to get by.

She slid into her seat, smiling at Ethan next to her. "Shiny," she said to Mal. "Mercy was just about to cook so Jayne had a grin on his face when I left."

"Well, you did warn her about not letting him in the kitchen."

"I think she was looking forward to preparing a meal for him. I doubt she has guests that often."

Mal's own lips twitched. "Was that all he was grinning about?"

"Well, no," Freya admitted. "He rather enjoyed having his 'word'."

"Are they still walking?" Simon wanted to know, handing her the plate of food he'd put to one side.

"Just." Freya laughed. "They won't be threatening anyone else for a while, that's for sure."

"He didn't ..." Even now the young doctor was circumspect, wary of little ears around the table listening in. He shouldn't have worried.

"Did Uncle Jayne beat them up?" Bethie asked, apparently intent on getting as much mashed potato as possible onto her fork while still paying strict attention to the conversation.

Simon rolled his eyes while Kaylee said brightly, "No, honey. Uncle Jayne didn't beat anyone up," at the same time as glaring at the captain's wife.

"It's okay, sweetie," Freya agreed. "Jayne just talked to them."

Bethie gave her a look that said she knew exactly what Jayne had done, and nobody was going to be able to convince her otherwise. With a sigh she went back to something much more interesting, and began shovelling her food into her mouth again.

It was only later, when everyone was turning in for the night, that Mal took Freya and Zoe to one side. "Well?" he asked. "Did he figure out who paid them? And am I looking at my gunhand getting bound for killing anyone?"

"No," Freya said. "They might have a few more cuts and bruises, but they're alive." She exhaled steadily. "And it's who we suspected."

"Bea Jarvis," Zoe supplied.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"You didn't set them on us."

"I know. But …"

"I understand."

"What do you want to do about it?" Mal wanted to know.

"Not sure," his first mate admitted. "I think I'd like to sleep on it."

"Are you going to tell Mercy?" he asked.

"No." Zoe paused. "At least, I don't think so. Like we've been saying all along, she has to live here after we're long gone."

For once Freya disagreed. "She has the right to know. If she does win, and decides to give Bea a job, don't you think she should be aware the woman tried to have her hurt? Or worse?"

Mal looked at her. "Do you think that's what would have happened?"

His wife shrugged. "I didn't Read them, if that's what you're asking. But Jayne seemed pretty sure they wouldn't have just stopped with their fists." Her mouth curved slightly. "I think that's partly why he _talked_ to them longer than was strictly necessary."

He wasn't surprised. There wasn't a man on board Serenity who condoned violence towards women. "I'm guessing they ain't gonna be walking well for a few days."

"A few weeks, more likely."

Mal had seemed more than happy at the result, and he'd escorted Freya off to bed with a smile on his face.

Zoe, on the other hand, had taken advantage of the fact that they were landbound, and took the longest shower of her life, knowing the water tanks would be refilled before they left. Just standing under the hot spray, letting it alternately pound into her aches then caress them, made her feel a whole lot better, despite the continuous loop in her mind of the open air debate. She had to smile, though. Mercy had really come through, and if she didn't win, it wouldn't be through lack of trying. And after the next meeting, Zoe was going to make sure.

Finally stepping out of the shower, she dried her hair as much as possible, then peeled the waterproof weave off her cheek, examining it in the mirror. The cut was barely damp, although in the stark light of the tiled room it looked a lot worse that it had before. Broken blood vessels had also darkened her skin around her eye, and she had to agree with Simon – it looked like she was a battered wife.

Well, good. She had what she was going to say all planned, and even if it didn't have the clever lilt of the speech written for her, it was going to come from the heart.

She'd barely managed to fall into bed before sleep overtook her.

Now she lay on her back, watching Hank descend the ladder into their bunk.

"Hey, sleepy," he said, grinning at her. "I thought for a while you were going to doze the day away."

"Too much to do," she said. She stretched, ignoring the pain this time, although obviously not enough.

Hank crossed to the bed, sitting down on the edge. "Here." He held out his hand, open palm up.

She stared at the little tablets. "What are they?"

"Patented Simon medicament, guaranteed to perk you up, curl your hair, and cure you of anything that ails you. Including colic, the gripes, and ingrowing toenails."

She had to laugh, then wished she hadn't. "Honey, were you a snake oil salesman in a former life?"

He put his free hand on his chest, above his heart. "You got me. I lied about everything, and I'm really a snake oil magnate with billions of credits in the bank, and a penchant for travelling the 'verse under the persona of this poor, penniless pilot."

"Nice alliteration."

"I thought so."

"So all this time we've been trying to make ends meet, and you're sitting on a pile of dough."

"Yes." He nodded, his untidy brown hair unnaturally serious.

"You know what that makes you, don't you?"

He perked up. "A scoundrel?"

"A liar," she corrected.

"Oh, no, let me be a scoundrel. I've always dreamed of being one. Heading off into the night on my dashing black steed, seducing women left, right and centre, before coming home again with the dawn."

"How many women?"

"What?"

"This seduction. I think I need figures here."

"Um …" He began to count on his fingers. "Multiply by … then carry the …" His grey eyes screwed up as he concentrated. "Then take away the number you first thought of …" He returned his gaze to her. "One?"

"That's fine, then." She took the tablets from him, idly wondering for a moment what it was about her that attracted these odd men, and what about them attracted her. First Wash, now Hank … Somehow, from where she sat – or more precisely, lay – it seemed like perhaps it was inevitable.

He nodded, almost as if he knew what she was thinking. It wouldn't surprise her if he was a little bit psychic. Or possibly crazy.

"You know," he said conversationally, "those little pills will work a lot quicker if you take them. I mean, they _could_ make you feel better just by holding onto them, but I think you might find actually swallowing them –"

"Fine." She lifted herself onto her elbow. "Water?"

"Water." He jumped to his feet, saluted, and hurried to the small sink.

She watched him as he filled a glass, and wondered if they were always going to be like this. Oh, they argued. Sometimes for days at a time. Mal had always said never to go to bed angry, and he'd done his best to keep to that with Frey, but Zoe wasn't made of the same stuff. Until Hank finally admitted to his gambling problem, she had seriously considered her options, whether it was leaving him and taking Ben with her, or making him go. Living on a ship, of course, didn't help. Close proximity meant they had to work things out, not let them fester. Although maybe that was a good thing.

He headed back to her, and for a moment a serious look passed over his eyes, as if … No. He was probably just picking up on her expression. Holding out the glass he said, "Here you go."

"I'm glad I didn't get rid of you," she said, the words coming out almost without intervention of her brain.

Hank sat down again, letting his fingers glide through her curls, ghosting over the bruising on her cheek. "Yeah. Me too." There seemed to be more that he wanted to say, probably along the lines that she shouldn't put herself in harm's way, but they'd come to an understanding a long time ago that he'd keep things like that to a minimum. Instead he grinned. "Come on. If you want food you'd better get up now."

Swallowing the tablets quickly and washing the bitter taste away, she shook her head. "I'm not that hungry."

"That's a pity." He sighed theatrically. "Considering Simon said you had to eat when you took those pills."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "And you couldn't have told me this before I took them?"

"No. Because then you probably wouldn't have, and you'd be in pain for the rest of the day." His tone might not have been serious, but he meant every word. "Besides," he added, jumping to his feet and stepping to the ladder, "then you wouldn't have been in for a Hank surprise."

"A what?"

He held up a finger to tell her to wait, and scrambled up the ladder, returning only a second later with a tray he'd obviously had waiting. Climbing down with only one hand to hold onto the rungs had its precarious moments, but he made it to the deck. Stepping back to the bed he placed it next to her. "Voila!" he said, twitching the cloth from the top,

Zoe had to laugh, even though it hurt. On the tray was a bowl of hot cereal, a jug of warm milk, what looked like half a loaf of toast, whatever substitute it was they were using this month for butter, and two mugs of coffee. "You did all this?"

"I did." A semi-guilty look passed swiftly across his face. "Well, Frey did the cereal. But I put the rest together."

She shook her head. "Maybe I have to get beaten up more often."

"No." His hand was suddenly on hers. "Don't."

Looking into his grey eyes, she saw the depth of his feelings so clearly it was as if he'd sky-written them. She nodded this time. "Okay." Glancing down at the tray, she added, "You know, there's far too much for just me."

He grabbed one of the two spoons lurking under the bowl. "I never thought you'd ask."

* * *

Jesse had finally finished her breakfast, taking her time as usual, and had got down to play with Maoli who was lying stretched out on the rest area chairs, her tail flicking as the little girl tried to catch it.

"If'n that cat scratches her, there'll be tears," Mal warned.

Freya smiled. "Maoli's far too good for that."

"She's a feline type creature."

"Exactly."

He looked at his wife, only the pair of them still at the table, nursing final cups of coffee. "That supposed to be an answer?"

"Cats are remarkably intelligent," Freya explained.

"Always preferred dogs myself."

"Well, me too, but I can see the appeal."

Jesse giggled, stopping the one game to start another, running her hand all along Maoli's body from nose to tip, eliciting purrs that should, by rights, have come from a much larger animal.

"Anyway, getting back to what I was saying." Mal took a sip of coffee, finding it had grown almost cold. Standing up he motioned with his mug, but Freya shook her head, indicating she'd had enough. He went to top his up. "I just think Jayne's being surprisingly ... well, not like Jayne," he said as he tipped the beverage away down the sink before refilling from the pot.

"Oddly enough, Jayne's pretty much a gentleman when it comes to women." She watched him lean nonchalantly against the counter.

"Jayne? We are talking about the same feller here, ain't we? The same one as kept a whole stable of whorehouses in business?" Mal shook his head. "Only I don't remember seeing much evidence of any chivalrous behaviour."

She chuckled and stood up, stretching slightly. "He hasn't been to a whorehouse in years, as you well know." Picking up her empty mug she joined him in the kitchen area. "I doubt he'd have the energy, not with River to keep him warm."

Mal put on a pained look. "I really don't need to know that, _xin gan_."

Grinning, she elbowed him gently out of the way so she could get to the sink where she rinsed the mug quickly, drying it on a towel. "Anyway, why shouldn't he be a gentleman towards Mercy?" There was no answer. "Mal."

"Mmn?" He wasn't really taking that much notice seeing as he was standing very close behind her, and using his height advantage to look down her shirt. She hadn't buttoned as high as usual, and he could see the swell of her ...

"Stop that!" She glanced at him, an indulgent smile on her lips.

"Why? I like looking."

"You were sleeping next to it all last night. And considerably less clothed, too."

"Yeah, but there's something about seeing it all ... hidden like that."

"Pervert."

"Hope so."

"Anyway, why shouldn't Jayne be like that?"

"What? Oh. Just … it ain't like him. It kind of freezes the blood."

"Actually, it is like him."

He moved around so he could look into her face. "Explain."

"He doesn't hurt women. Well, not unless he's being paid to. But when he used to visit those very same whorehouses, there wasn't one that turned him away. He treated the women he bedded well."

"He tried to sell River on Ariel."

"And now they're married."

"Hell of a way to start a relationship."

"Mal, Jayne was brought up to respect women. His Ma made sure of that. And even if he was on his uppers it would take near starvation for him to take a job to kill one."

"Unless it's Saffron."

"Unless it's her."

"Or Desiree."

"Who?"

Mal glanced over his shoulder at Ethan, who was just stepping down into the galley. "I'll tell you later."

"Does nakedness come into this?"

"Pretty much."

Freya snorted a laugh. "What is it about this crew?"

"Too gorram pretty for our own good, that's the trouble." He pressed a little closer.

"Stop that," she said again, this time keeping her voice low. Making him move back she smiled at her son. "Morning, Ethan."

"Morning, Mama." The little boy rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Morning, Daddy," he added, somewhat indistinctly.

"Did you oversleep?" Freya asked.

"Mmn." He stretched, his pyjamas riding up to show his pale belly, then ran across the room for Mal to pick him up.

"Oof," his father complained. "You're getting heavy." He settled him on the counter.

Ethan grinned, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I'm growing up," he said proudly.

"Not too fast," Freya amended.

"No, Mama," he agreed. Then he looked down. "My tummy's making funny noises."

"Hungry?"

"Mmn." He smacked his lips.

"Well, breakfast's done, but I'm sure I can find something for you."

"Yum."

Mal felt someone tug at his pants.

"Daddy?"

He looked down into Jesse's upturned face. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"'M hungry too."

He lifted her up to sit next to her brother. "You've just eaten."

"Cookie?" she asked hopefully.

Mal laughed. "Ask your mother. I've got things to be doing down in the cargo bay." He ruffled both their heads and started for the stairs.

"That's it," Freya called. "Make me out to be the bad guy when I say no."

"Then don't say no." He just managed to duck out of the way of the metal mug that clattered into the corridor in front of him.

* * *

Somehow the day didn't seem to have enough hours in it, and all too soon it was coming up on the time they needed to be gone. Mostly it was Kaylee doing the work, although for anything that needed heavy lifting or welding she had a number of pressganged volunteers, even though she itched to do it herself.

By five the old mule was ready, the engine muffled as much as the young mechanic could make it, and various protuberances poking out from underneath.

"Is it gonna work?" Mal asked, staring at the old vehicle.

"Sure it is." But even Kaylee's bright disposition couldn't let that go by without adding, "Long as you don't break it." She gave a low chuckle at the affronted look on his face, before she added, "Back in a mo," and hurried off to the washroom to pee yet again.

River spent the last hour or so stretching, climbing the catwalks from the outside and worrying everyone by hanging off them apparently by her toes. Eventually she seemed to be satisfied. "I'm going to change," she said, her bare feet not making a sound as she ascended the stairs to the shuttle.

If she was surprised when Mal followed her inside, she didn't show it.

"_Xiao nu_ …" He stopped, aware he'd called her 'daughter' before he could stop it slipping from his lips.

"You want to know if I'm positive this is the only way," she supplied, stripping her sweaty top from her skin without thinking.

"Hey!" He turned around, barely in time to stop himself from seeing the creamy pale flesh exposed.

"Sorry," she said, grabbing her robe and pulling it on. "You can look again." As he turned warily back, she shrugged. "Used to getting undressed in here," she said. "Didn't think."

"Your mind not on the job, albatross?"

"It will be," she said firmly.

"And yeah, you're right. I need to know. Is there another way we can do this? I hate putting you into danger like this."

"No danger. Just me and the building. One against the other."

"That don't make it sound any better."

"That's because you care about me, j_ia yan_."

"Not your father," he said, but without any heat.

River smiled. "And everything will be fine." She hugged him, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Now go. I have to change." She went to open her robe. "Unless you'd like to watch?"

Mal backed up, shaking his head. "No, no, that's … And don't you even go mentioning to Jayne you suggested it, even in jest. No telling what the man might do." He hurried out of the shuttle to the sound of River's laughter.

* * *

Zoe was already in her bunk, brushing her hair and getting ready for the last meeting, at least until Hank took the brush from her hands and did it himself. For a moment she watched him in the mirror, at the way his concentration was centred on the one task, running his fingers through her heavy tresses.

"You like it, don't you?" she asked softly. "My hair."

His reflection smiled. "I love it. Just like I love you."

"You're just jealous."

The doppelganger laughed. "You think I'd give up this mess I call a hairstyle for yours? Never." He let himself feel the weight. "Are you going to wear it up?"

"No. Just the usual."

"Shiny." He picked up the curved wooden hair slide and its accompanying pin, a gift she'd told him once that Wash had carved for her. It was polished walnut, apparently, and the pattern in the grain shone through the oiled surface. Catching her locks at either side of her head, he pulled them gently back into the curve, then slid the pin expertly home, catching it in place. His grey eyes travelled to her dark ones. "What about clothes? I've got that dress ready for –"

"No," she said firmly. "No dress. I'm not going to pretend to be what I'm not. Not anymore."

"But if you're planning on going naked …" He tried to make a joke of it, aware she might just take offence.

To his intense relief she smiled. "No. Not naked. I think they'd like that too much. I'll be wearing clothes, just not a dress."

"Pants?"

"Pants."

He grinned. "That's my Zoe. No dress, and no make-up on this either." He touched the bruises marring her beautiful dark skin. "Showing these _hwoon dahn_ what their planet's really like."

"I know what you mean." She gazed at herself in the mirror. "Shouldn't be that way, either. I mean, you look at it and it's a nice place. Then you start digging, and it's built on all this poison …"

Hank put his arm around her shoulders. "Then it's time it got lanced, don't you think?"

She nodded. "I surely do."


	20. Chapter 20

Eighteen. Check. Just to prove it he put a tick beside the item on his list underneath the entry for sutures. Eighteen packs of swabs, ready for use. And more in the small storage compartment at the rear of the cargo bay. Not that he considered it likely they'd be needing swabs, let alone that many. Mal had promised there'd be no bloodshed. Still, what Mal promised and what ultimately came to be were often quite different.

Simon sighed. There wasn't one of the adults who didn't have scars, some more than others. Even he'd got a few, and he didn't consider himself to be an action man at all. Luckily the children had escaped serious … although Ethan had the scar down his chest, and there were … Maybe he did need to count the swabs every so often, after all.

Besides, it calmed him. With River out doing God knows what, the others all at the meeting, he felt the tension like a wet blanket wrapped around his shoulders, occasionally being zapped by some friendly person with an electric cattle prod. Or at least how he thought that might feel. Not that he actually wanted to try it. But counting supplies helped, took his mind off the images that played on the back of his retinas, of bodies lying on the ground, of blood, of …

"Daddy?"

He turned his head towards the doorway and smiled at his daughter. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Bethie rolled her foot. "Wanted to apologise."

The smile faded a little. "Why? What have you done?"

"Nothing!" the little girl insisted. "Much," she added, feeling the need to be scrupulously honest. She looked down at the deck plating. "We were playing 'lections, and …"

The smile returned. "I know. Your Aunts told me."

She glanced up, an expression of annoyance crossing her face but quickly gone. "Well, I … we …"

Simon lowered himself to the infirmary floor and held out his arms. "Come here," he said, and Bethie ran to him, sitting on his thigh. "So what do you want to apologise for?"

"I did it because I wanted to tell people what to do."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"'Cause it's fun." She picked up a strand of her long, honey-coloured hair and began to chew on the end. "Being the boss."

Simon sighed, just a little. "I know. And on the odd occasions when I get the chance, I enjoy it too."

"You do?"

"Of course. Everyone does."

"But I want to do it all the time."

"You mean you want to be a politician."

Her eyes widened. "I do?"

"Pretty much." He snuggled her closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "But River also told me she explained why it wasn't a good idea."

"Mmn." Bethie closed her eyes, enjoying some time with her father just to herself.

He pulled her hair from her mouth, sliding his fingers down it and finding the inevitable tangles. "And you did understand."

"Mmn."

"Then why should you apologise?"

She looked up at him, and he could see she was beginning to wish she hadn't started this particular line of exposition. "Well ..."

"Bethie, whatever it was you'd better tell me so I can put it right before your mother gets back."

"Well, like I said, we was playing –"

"Were playing," Simon corrected absently.

"_Were_ playing," she amended. "And we were talking about something or other, and I asked Ben to get something for me, and ... well ... he wouldn't do what I wanted."

"Oh?" Simon perhaps wasn't paying as much attention as the situation warranted, concentrating instead on teasing out the slight knots, because it took a moment for her next words to sink in.

"So I punched him."

"What?" He stared at her.

"I … um … punched him."

"You punched Ben?" He knew he sounded ridiculous, but he was trying to get it straight in his head.

"If he'd done what I wanted I wouldn't have had to."

"Bethie, you can't go around punching people just because they don't agree with you."

"But Uncle Jayne did. When those men attacked Auntie Zoe. He hit them."

"Yes, but –"

"He went back for a second go, too."

For a moment Simon was stumped. How was he going to explain the fact that real life was an almost infinite variety of shades of grey to a six year old who only saw things as black or white? But he had to try. "Bethie, Jayne is a grown man. What he chooses to do is ... up to him. But there are a lot of people who'd say he was wrong to do it."

"To beat them up."

"To remonstrate with them," he said firmly. "And it doesn't matter the provocation ... you shouldn't hit anyone at all."

"But –"

"Not at all, Bethany."

She knew by the usage of her full name that this was going to be his last word on the subject. "Okay, Daddy," she said, laying her head back against his shoulder.

He looked down at her, at the impression she gave that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, that she was the sweetest little thing in the 'verse while bordering on the genius level of intelligence, and yet was still capable of being, well, a child. Maybe Kaylee would have some idea of how to punish her.

Except she hadn't finished. "Only … his nose is bleeding."

"Oh, _diyu_," Simon swore, putting Bethie to one side and scrambling to his feet before grabbing his medical bag and a packet of swabs. He'd been wrong. There was blood after all, and now he'd have to start counting all over again. When he got back from dealing with the aftermath of his daughter's tendency to megalomania.

* * *

"No."

"Miss Mercy …" They were standing outside the Town Hall, around the side away from the main entrance. The clock above had just tolled half-past seven as Jayne tried to persuade her that he should accompany her inside.

"No." She wasn't going to be moved on this, not even by this big man with the unusual name. "I'm fine now. And you can go and join your friends."

"What if someone decides to try something?" he asked, his mind wandering over the many options, and almost felt ashamed that a lot of them he'd had personal experience of. Not against women, not much, anyway, but too many had ended in a dying gasp.

"What if they do?" She lifted her chin, staring into his face. "You're going to stop them?"

"Yeah."

"And when you've gone. When all this is over, and your ship takes off for the Black again. Then what?"

"Well –"

She put her hand on his arm, a smile catching at her lips. "Jayne, I know you're just concerned for me, and I do thank you. But Zoe, and the rest of you, have shown me I don't have to be scared all the time. And I want to tell other women that too. All the women of Jericho. But I can't do that if I have a guardian angel watching me all the time."

"Ain't no angel," Jayne growled, but he knew he wasn't going to win this one.

"Maybe not. But pretty close." She patted him. "Now, I have something important to do." She nodded towards people around the corner. "And you'll be standing if you don't hurry up and get seats."

"Not ruttin' likely." He grinned suddenly, leaned down and put a kiss on her cheek.

She coloured, a pink blush running up her face from her chest all the way to her hairline. "You're a bad man," she said, still feeling his goatee on her skin, and she hurried away through the side door into the interior.

"Yeah. That's what my wife says," he called after her, chuckling, a deep sound from the base of his belly. Waiting until she was safely inside, he turned back towards the main entrance, using his greater bulk to push through the people milling about outside the Hall. She was right. It looked like it was starting to fill up, much more so than before, and as he got inside he could see a couple of Cortex crews had already set up their equipment at the back. It looked like there was going to be quite a crowd. He grinned. Maybe he should've sold tickets.

* * *

The lamplit streets were comparatively quiet, and although the mule's engine was muffled as much as Kaylee could manage without it being in danger of stalling, the sound still seemed to bounce from building to building.

"Where is everyone, albatross?" Mal whispered as he steered the ATV into a dark alleyway at the side of the Election offices. The rest of the crew – barring Simon, of course – was already on their way to the meeting, and he'd drawn the short straw to accompany their young psychic assassin. Well, not drawn it. Demanded it, if truth be known. If he wasn't going to be the one going in, he was sure as _ru gou_ going to be the one checking she was okay before she did.

"Watching."

He waited for her to be more forthcoming but that appeared to be all she had to say. "Watching what?" he prompted.

"Zoe."

As he pulled the vehicle to a halt, he suppressed a sigh. "River, you and me both know you're capable of doing maybe thirty things at the same time, so while I'm aware you're thinking about the job ahead, I've got the notion you can be a bit clearer in your answers, _dong mah_?"

She didn't correct him, didn't tell him only thirty was a serious understatement. Instead she turned to look at him, her pale face solemn in the ambient light. "The majority of the population of Jericho Wells is at home watching the local Cortex which is about to transmit coverage of the final public meetings. Another large section is waiting at the Town Hall to see the final showdown in person. Some eight percent who are not interested in politics are eating their evening meal, five percent are engaged in alcoholic activities, one percent is having sex, although not necessarily with their own partners, one half of one percent –"

He held up a hand. "Okay. I know. I asked for that."

She smiled suddenly. "And one half of a percent are currently going about illicit and illegal activities."

"That include us?"

"It does." She climbed from the mule and stood looking up at the building, her hands on her slim hips.

"But I figure that still means there's a fair number of folk breaking the law elsewhere." He grinned. "And I always thought that wasn't how they did things here on Jericho."

"It's how they do things everywhere." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "And it's time to be bad guys."

* * *

"Zoe."

"Mercy." The dark woman smiled at the comparative formality. "Jayne eat you out of house and home?"

Mercy giggled. "Near enough. I never knew a person could put quite so much away."

"He probably is exceptional in that regard, but to tell the truth all the men I know do seem to enjoy their food." She reached towards the back pocket of her pants. "You'd better let me –"

Mercy held up a hand. "If you're going to offer to pay me, I'll be insulted," she said firmly. "It was a pleasure to watch."

"Really? Because people have died in the fallout on occasion."

"Luckily I kept well back."

They laughed together, then Zoe glanced around the room, the same one they'd been in before. Her eyes alighted on Bea Jarvis, standing by the ornate fireplace, staring at them. "Excuse me for a minute, will you, Mercy?" she said. "I just want a word with someone."

Mercy nodded, understanding immediately and getting out of the way.

Zoe moved forward, but Bea turned on her heel and left the room. Lengthening her stride she followed her out. Bea was nowhere in sight but the door to the ladies room a little further down the corridor was swinging. Zoe pushed it open and stepped inside.

Bea was at the sink, washing her hands. She saw movement in the mirror in front of her and lifted her head, her eyes widening as she realised who it was and turned abruptly, her still wet hands coming up into fists.

"Planning on finishing what your pals started?" Zoe asked, letting the door close silently behind her.

"No idea what you're talking about," Bea stated, but the look in her eyes belied her words.

"Really." Zoe crossed the small room until she was barely an arms length from the other woman. "So you didn't pay Jarrett Stout, Virgil Peters and their friends to teach me a lesson?"

Bea went pale. "You're crazy."

In answer Zoe pulled a handful of IDents out of her pocket. "You might want to be giving them back," she said, almost conversationally. "Seeing as they won't be able to vote without them." She tossed the cards Jayne had collected during his 'words' onto the counter, one of them skittering into the sink. "And you can explain to me how I got those if I'm crazy."

Like many people who saw violence as a way of getting what they wanted, Bea was a coward at heart, and even though she was a similar height and outweighed Zoe by about twenty pounds she could tell by the look on the other woman's face that there was no denying anything. She let her hands drop and leaned against the wall unit. "Now what?" she asked.

"Well, that's kinda up to you."

Bea's eyes narrowed. "You want me to back out of the election."

"No. That ain't it at all."

"Then what?"

"Leave Mercy alone."

"What?"

"Leave her alone. I've got ways of knowing, and she even gets a head cold I'll hear. And if anything untoward happens to her …"

"You'll get one of those men who hang around you to beat me up?" Bea suggested, a flash of contempt mixing with the anger making her cheeks flame.

Zoe smiled coldly and closed the distance between them. "Oh, no," she said quietly. "I won't need to do that." She let the unspoken threat hang for a moment, then turned on her heel and walked out, not even taking a backward glance.

Bea watched as the door swung to, then slumped back against the sinks, her heart pounding in her chest, uncomfortably aware she'd only avoided the frying pan to jump straight into the fire.

* * *

River had skirted the base of the Election offices, noting the only illumination coming from inside was on the ground floor, throwing a square of light onto the ground. Inside she could feel a guard, settling back with a mug of cocoa and a magazine, having taken his turn around the building and now preparing to … Her nose wrinkled at the type of reading matter he'd chosen and easily slid by.

At the far side, opposite where Mal was still waiting with the mule, she looked up, her mind checking everything for the ten thousandth time. She reached into the small bag at her waist and withdrew something that resembled a gun, but more bulky under the trigger guard. Resisting the temptation to close one eye River aimed the small contraption, knowing exactly the right angle, the wind velocity, the possibility of a low flying bird interfering with her computations … and pressed the trigger. A tiny spear flew from the barrel, trailing a fine line that disappeared into the night.

Mal was staring up, but even then almost missed the line coming down, except that at the last moment it passed through a patch of street light and the metal glittered. He heard it fall, and ran to it, careful not to tug too hard as he picked it up. This was the most delicate part of the operation, and although the line attached was strong, there was no guarantee that it hadn't caught on something on the roof.

Hurrying back to the mule he attached it to the winch now adorning the underside of the chassis, and started the motor. Slowly, very slowly, only the vibration telling him that it was working, he let his hand run along the line as it moved, checking for nicks, anything that might indicate it was rubbing where it shouldn't. But it seemed to be fine, and when the join to the slightly thicker cable came, he let out a relieved breath and paused the winch.

_River?_

_Yes?_

_You attached?_

_Ready._

_Shiny._

He restarted the winch, and the note changed as something heavier was dragged up the other side of the building. In the darkness he could see the two side wheels of the mule begin to lift from the ground, and quickly sat on the edge, adding his weight to stabilise it. It was enough, and the winch continued to reel the cable in.

River felt the line attached to her belt tighten, and her toes left the ground. Leaning back a little, she walked up the building, her dark, skin-tight clothes making her one with the shadows. She smiled a little as she considered what anyone still working might have thought if they'd looked out, but there was no-one to burn the midnight oil.

At the top she merely walked over the edge onto the roof, mentally saying, _Stop._

Mal quickly flicked the winch off, watching for movement above. After only a few seconds he could see something outlined against the sky, just a darker area cutting off the few stars that had managed to get through the atmo.

_Catch_.

The cable snaked down and landed at his feet.

_River. That could have hit me,_ he thought, allowing a touch of irritation to cloud his mind-speak.

_Sorry_. Only she didn't sound it.

He raised a mental eyebrow and got a mental laugh back. _River …_

_Time for you to go, jia yan, _she interrupted.

_Keep tellin' you, I ain't your Pa._

_And one day I may believe it._

_When's that likely to be?_

_When the stars grow cold._

_That's what I figured. _He had to smile._ You take care, you hear?_

_I know what I'm doing._

Mal looked up, saw the slip of a figure on the edge of the roof. She waved at him, then fell forwards, and his breath stopped, ears straining for the sound of a body hitting the ground. But there was nothing, no bone-crunching thud, and as he stared he could see she was hanging on by her toes, her fingers working at something he couldn't see. Then there was a darker patch and she had slid inside through the window that had faulty security connectors.

"Kaylee, you're gonna be getting a bonus," he murmured, his lungs working again as he started the mule's engine. "Your scan worked a treat."

He couldn't see River at all now, just the bare expanse of building, but in his mind he heard, _She will like that. Time to go._

_I wasn't thinking at you,_ he chided, but nodded unnecessarily and accelerated away, leaving his albatross to get on with her part of the plan.

* * *

"It's time." Cromwell glared at Zoe, taking in her refusal to be dressed appropriately, but didn't say anything. With a crowd like they had out in the hall, he considered this woman was just itching to lose, and that might be interesting to watch.

"Come on then," Mercy said, surprising all bar one as she walked past Cromwell, her head high.

Zoe followed, not even bothering to hide the smirk on her lips, aware the Election official was staring at the still swollen eye, the bruises, the cut … Good.

Filing onto the stage, knowing the other three candidates were behind her, she looked out into the hall, noting that every seat was taken, and all standing room was filled. This time, a lot of the audience were women, and she felt the calmness that normally denoted battle-readiness take hold. Not that she was going to kill anyone. Not really. Maybe just injure their pride a little.

Her eyes searched out Serenity's crew, finding them at the back of the hall, Hank sitting forwards on the edge of his chair. There was a space at the end of the row that Jayne had kept by the simple expedient of sitting across two seats, but even as she watched Mal slid into place. She saw him blink once, and knew it meant River was doing what she did best.

Cromwell stepped to the front and coughed to get everyone's attention. Not that he needed to. A distinct hush had fallen on the crowd as the candidates walked out, and now everyone was waiting on tenterhooks to see what would happen next.

* * *

Inside the Election building River stood for a long while in the dead spot by the window as the miniature recorder in her bag took a broad spectrum capture of the apparently empty corridor, just listening to the walls, letting them tell her where everything was, who had been by last, what they had touched.

It was entirely logical, she'd always considered. A memory wafer, that was little more than a layer of plastic with molecular coating, could contain an entire library of books, and the delicate piece of microcircuitry in a capture maker could record a life from birth to earth as long as the chip was big enough. So why not walls? Floors? The air? Maybe that was what made her a Reader, the ability to see the recordings, to be tuned to the broadcasts. She knew, if she opened her mind up fully, she could hear every single person on Jericho, but that would be very painful and unnecessary. Besides, it might also fry her brain, so she kept focused.

There. Enough time.

Taking the tiny box from her bag she set it to _send_ instead of _receive_, knowing that no matter what she did now, the security cameras on this floor covering this particular corridor would see nothing.

* * *

As before Polly Adams had the chance to speak first, at least this time making more of a showing, even if it was at Zoe's expense.

"This woman …" She paused, pointing behind her. "This _person_ comes into our town and proceeds to tell us how _we_ should live … What right does she have?"

"You think it's even occurred to her that she's ranting against the very thing she's standing for?" Hank murmured to Freya as the diatribe continued.

"Probably not. I imagine she saw what happened yesterday and decided to try it for herself, only she's not Mercy."

"Thank God," the pilot said fervently, watching his wife for any signs of imminent violence.

Freya smiled and went back to listening, although half of her mind was on what River was doing.

* * *

It was a ballet. That was the only way to describe it. At times she was almost up on points, then leaping and flitting between the security beams, not one of them touching her. As she danced, she wished someone could be watching, who could appreciate the skill, the lightness on her feet, but there was no-one but the blinking cameras, and they were blind. At the end, as she reached the door to the computer room, she stopped and took a little bow, before slipping inside.

* * *

Of the other candidates, only Sarah Cordell made anything like a decent showing, perhaps aware she needed to leave them with a good impression if she stood any chance at all. She too attacked Zoe's war record, but at least it was only in passing, pointing out that as Jericho had come down staunchly on the side of Unification, it would be unheard of to have anyone in a position of power who had fought on the other side.

"She's taking it real well," Kaylee said, and they knew very well it wasn't the speaker she was talking about. "I'd've hit someone by now."

Hank put his arm around the young mechanic and hugged her shoulders.

Then it was Mercy's turn.

"I'd like to thank my estimable opponents," she began. "Without you I wouldn't have grown, learned so many new things. I wouldn't have come to see just what needs to be done here on Jericho, that the way we do things needs to change. Not overnight – that won't happen. It can't happen, and I don't propose that it does. But a small step in the right direction is still a step, and each step becomes a journey, and together we can make Jericho a planet to be admired, to be looked up to, to be held up as a shining example to the future of the Alliance."

"Not bad," Mal said quietly.

"Ain't heard Zoe yet," Jayne muttered back. "But she's a good woman."

Mal didn't bother to hide the smile.

At Mercy finished there was a burst of applause that filled the room for minutes, and every time it looked like it was dying down a young man in the front row kept it going.

"Who's that?" Mal asked Freya.

"Another possible future," she answered enigmatically as Cromwell tried to quell the audience.

"Huh?"

She didn't answer, just sat still again as Bea Jarvis spoke, or at least tried to. She seemed ill at ease, her eyes constantly darting from one side of the hall to the other, and sat down much quicker than anticipated.

Hank leaned over a little. "Zoe?"

Freya nodded. "I imagine she had a word."

"Anything like Jayne's?"

"I wouldn't think she needed to be …" Freya sat up straighter, her voice dying away.

"And finally," Cromwell was saying, "our last candidate. And remember, you will be able to ask any final questions at the end."

He moved to one side, and Zoe stood up.


	21. Chapter 21

As Cromwell announced her, Zoe stood up and walked to the front of the stage, her head held high, making sure the light caught the swelling still closing her eye, the cut, the bruises.

She could hear a vague uneasiness in the audience about her clothing, but more than one woman was looking her up and down in a speculative way, perhaps thinking that pants might be more comfortable, and a lot more practical.

She waited, letting everyone get a good look, taking so long she could see Cromwell starting to get nervous.

Finally she spoke, her voice filling the large hall without even needing to be raised.

"Seen enough?" she asked. "And before you judge, it wasn't my husband. If it was he wouldn't be my husband any more. But the men who did it … they're not important. They're less than nothing. It doesn't matter who did this, what their motives were, whether they were paid or not. It doesn't even matter that it was me who got stopped last night, threatened, beaten on. No-one should be treated like this. Male, female, child, adult … no-one has the right to deal this way with another human being just because they don't agree with them, or because they're stronger, or cleverer, or because it's the way things have always been done, here on Jericho."

Zoe took a breath, letting her words sink in. "That's pretty much why I stood for women's rights campaigner. In fact, it shouldn't be called that at all. It should be campaigner for _human_ rights. Because you need that. Someone to stand up and be counted, to say what some of you are probably thinking, but are too afraid to voice. To avow and declare that everyone has the right to live their life under nobody's heel, to be able to complain when something is wrong without fear, without having to look over their shoulder so often that it becomes a habit, until it's so ingrained that the whole gorram planet acts the same."

She could see Hank at the back of the hall, nodding encouragingly, the others next to him, Kaylee beaming so hard that she seemed to be glowing, and Mal with a look of pride on his face that she'd rarely seen outside his relationship with Freya. It warmed her through as she carried on speaking.

"I fought a war. Everyone knows that. Was on the losing side too. And believe me, if I could go back and make it that we won, I would. But we didn't. And that ain't gonna change. Now, I know you didn't support the Independent cause. It's been made more than clear to me. Except you above so many other places needed it. We were fighting against oppression, against one group of people half the 'verse away having the right to tell us what to do, how to live, how to think. Yet here you are, doing exactly that right here on Jericho. Whether it be keeping your womenfolk tied to the bedroom, the kitchen, or going further and making sure if they even put one foot out of line they end up tossed down the stairs."

She shook her head. "And the worse thing is that it isn't all of you. Just a few, making life harder than it needs. And if they carry on, if someone doesn't stand up for what's right, for what's fair … well, that little step Mercy Fischer talked about isn't going to get taken. And without it, you're going to stagnate, and in the end not even your abundant water supply is going to encourage new folk to come here, and you'll be left behind. So even if you don't vote for me, at least think on what I've said. And think on this too. A ballot's secret. No-one knows who you put your cross against. Go with your heart."

She didn't wait to see the reaction, just turned on her booted heel and walked back to her seat.

Someone started clapping at the back of the hall, joined by three or so others, then Mercy began, her hands flapping against each other so fast and so hard they were like a blur, then Sarah Cordell, somewhat slower and more grudgingly, but with a look almost like respect on her face.

Then the whole room erupted, and the Cortex crews were hard pressed to keep a view on the stage as most everyone stood up, men and women alike, only a handful sitting with their arms crossed, incensed belligerence exuding from every pore. Pretty much like Bea Jarvis and Polly Adams were doing.

"Do you think she went too far?" Hank asked, still clapping madly.

Freya shook her head, a wide smile on her face. "No. Far enough, maybe, and pushing the edge. But if they don't like her they'll vote for Mercy."

Cromwell was calling for order, trying to get everyone back in their seats, but nobody was listening. Even once the applause had died down people were congregating in groups and talking, perhaps for the first time in years, and he was ignored. In the end he gave up and strode angrily off the stage, letting them get on with it.

* * *

In the Election offices, River paused as she input the long sequence of code into the computer, having memorised them easily so that, if she did get caught, she wouldn't be found with a datatab on her containing anything incriminating.

Not that anybody was going to catch her, of course. The guard downstairs was in fact outside enjoying an illicit cigarette and a pull from his hip flask, and the next nearest person was a hundred yards away, passing in front of the building.

With one part of her mind she kept track of that man, the guard, the people in the cafe further down the plaza, while another was listening to what was happening in the Town Hall through her husband's eyes. She had to smile as Zoe's speech was flavoured with Jayne's respect, and just a taste of the affection he held the first mate in, even though it would take having his limbs forcibly removed to make him even think to begin to admit it. Still, as much fun as this was, she had her own job to complete, and with just a few more things to do she'd be able to go home.

* * *

"It ain't gonna last, is it?" Mal said, as quietly as he could so that nobody else could overhear.

"It might." Freya looked into his face and shrugged. "I don't know. It's hard to fight something that's been going on for years. You know that."

"Conjure maybe I do." He glanced down at his hands, red and stinging from clapping so hard. "But like River said, a single snowflake …"

"A solitary stone. Or a small step," Freya finished. "I know. And it might work."

"Want to hang around and find out?" he asked, slipping his arm around her waist.

"No. Home's out there." She nodded up towards the sky. "Footloose and fancy free. Not tied to the ground."

"And people wonder why I married you."

"Because I couldn't take any more of the begging."

"Is that right?"

"It is."

He grinned at her, then dropped a kiss on her nose. "Think maybe we'd better collect our candidate and head on home, don't you think? What with our busy day tomorrow, and all."

"What about Mercy?" Jayne asked, materialising next to them. "It ain't like I think those fellers are gonna make more trouble, but there's Bea Jarvis to consider."

"I don't think you need to worry about that," Freya said, smiling at him. "I'm pretty sure Zoe had a word."

"A word, huh?" He grinned. "That Bea didn't look like she was mangled."

"Oddly enough, Jayne, some people do actually talk to other folk without benefit of fists."

"No. Really?" He did a creditable impression of being surprised.

"Really."

He chortled, but was serious again in a second. "Still, I don't much like the idea of her being on her own, least 'til she gets home."

Freya glanced at Mal, who shrugged, then towards the stage, where a number of the audience had climbed up to talk to one candidate in particular. Her smile widened. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that," she said.

"Huh?" The big man turned. "Who the hell's that?" he asked, glaring at the young man playing guard to Mercy, his hand somewhat protectively on her arm.

"His name's Dean," Zoe said, pressing through the last of the crowd to join them.

"Do I recognise him?" Mal wanted to know, peering through the bodies, managing to catch a glimpse every now and then of dark, almost black hair, not too bad looking, and fairly well made.

"He's a waiter at one of the café's in the plaza," she explained. "I get the feeling he wants to get to know Mercy better."

"Ain't all he looks like wanting," Jayne growled.

"He looks kinda nice," Kaylee, ever the optimist, said.

The big man wasn't placated. "If'n he tries anything he shouldn't –"

"Down, Jayne," Freya murmured. "Mercy's quite happy to be with him, so there's no need for you to make a fuss."

_No need_. The words echoed in his mind, from someone not in the room, someone even now standing on the edge of the roof of the Election offices, looking out across Jericho Wells, at all the lights holding back the night and blocking out her beloved stars.

_You sure, moonbrain?_ he asked, seeing Freya's indulgent smile and knowing River was letting her pick up on the conversation as well.

_I'm sure. He likes her and would never willingly hurt her._

_Only if he did ..._

She smiled, and he could feel it in his consciousness like a flame. _My Jayne,_ she thought. _You have changed._

_No, I ain't. Still the same bastard that tried to get rid of you that time back on Ariel.._

_Who loves me._

_Yeah, well, that came later._

_Protecting his crew._

_Ain't mine._

_Always was._

_River ... _Jayne squirmed slightly as he always did when anyone, even his wife, mentioned that he might be getting softer in his old age.

She laughed, and even in his brain it was heavily laden with sexual promise. _Not old._

Freya, following Mal out into the night, snorted back a laugh, then shook her head quickly when he looked at her askance.

* * *

River felt the slight breeze ruffle her hair, almost as if someone were stroking their hand through her tresses, and for a long moment closed her eyes to let herself believe it was her father giving her his benediction. But he was dead these past few months, buried next to Jethro, little Alice and the crew of Road Runner on Prometheus after saving Simon's life.

Still, as she looked again at Jericho Wells she smiled and blew him a kiss, then another for luck before reattaching the second section of cable to her belt via various clips, then checking it wasn't tangled at all before looping it around the Cortex array stanchion and tossing it from the building. One last visual check, her gloved left hand steadying the line above her, the other to act as break, and she stepped off the edge.

For a definable nanosecond of time she thought she just hung in the air, then gravity noticed its mistake and took over, and she slid down the cable, accelerating past the floors until the ground came up so fast it was sure she would smear herself over the stones ... except she tugged sharply on the line with her right hand and slowed her descent so dramatically her feet touched down with barely a flex of her knees.

Swiftly she pulled the cable, hearing it whistle as it rode over the stanchion and dropped towards her, slithering to a halt at her feet. She bent to gather it up but a voice spoke.

"You done?" he breathed in her ear, barely enunciating the words.

She felt Jayne's arm wrap around her waist. "Done."

"You ain't surprised."

"Felt you coming."

His arm tightened. "Do you mind?"

"Never."

"Just thought I'd see you home. Since there are some mean desperadoes out on the streets tonight."

"Are there?"

"Well, there's me for one. And I still aim to get you back for saying I'm getting soft." His goatee scratched the back of her neck as he ran his lips over her skin, and she shivered.

"Make love to me under the stars."

He laughed, barely a susurration of breath, but she felt it run up his chest through her back. "Always did take you like this," he commented. "Any kinda action and you'd be hot after."

She sighed and leaned against him and wriggled a little, eliciting a slight groan. "Not the only one."

"One of these days you're gonna wear me out, you know that, don't you?" His hand wandered upwards from her waist.

"My big strong Jayne," she whispered. "Never."

"Not that I'm complaining, mind. Seems to me like I got the best end of the deal." His voice had dropped in tone, becoming even more gravelly.

She smiled, pressing even harder into his body. "So?"

"What?"

"Stars?"

"Ain't we likely to get bound?"

"No-one will catch us."

"What about Mal? He's gonna want to know if'n you did what you needed."

"Frey's told him."

He nodded, not surprised that the other Reader had been keeping mental tabs on her. Bethie probably had been, too. He went back to a much more pleasurable subject. "Where?"

She glanced around, not really using her eyes at all. Then she pointed. "There."

"What's there?"

"A park. Deserted. Empty. Devoid of –"

"I get your drift."

"No-one to hear you scream."

He squeezed the flesh he found in his hand, making her take a sharp breath. "Don't happen often, moonbrain."

His second usage that night of the word that used to be an insult and was now the greatest term of endearment made her knees weak and her heart beat faster. "Intending to wake the neighbours."

He grinned. "Race ya."

She shimmied from his grasp and ran forward a few paces, her dark clothes and hair making her blend into the night until she turned, and the lamplight hit the planes of her face. "Catch me," she murmured, before spinning on her heels and taking off.

Grabbing the coil of cable and tossing it over his shoulder, he was after her, determined to catch up to his _bao bei_ and make her every wish come true.

* * *

Simon was once again waiting for them as they walked up the incline into the Firefly's interior.

"Oh, honey," Kaylee gushed, bouncing as much as a pregnant woman in her ninth month could. "You shoulda seen it."

"I did," her husband said, grinning at her. "Did you think I'd miss out?" _Amongst all the other things I had to deal with tonight_, he thought to himself but didn't say. _On my own. Like bleeding noses and daughters who cause them_. "We all watched," he added, "before I sent the children to bed."

"And they went?" Mal asked, raising his eyebrows a little. "You're gonna have to let me in on your secret."

Simon more or less ignored him, looking at Zoe instead. "The Cortex reporters were surprisingly complimentary about you."

The dark woman shook her head. "You must have misheard."

"No, honestly." Simon was most insistent. "At least one of them called you magnificent."

"See?" Hank said, putting his arms around her and holding her tightly. "What I've been saying for years."

"Surely seems like Mercy ain't the only one with admirers," Mal said, closing up, the ramp squealing just a little as it raised. "You'll have to be careful, Hank, or someone might just come and steal her away from you."

"Never," the tousle-haired pilot said stoutly.

Simon stepped forward. "Wait. What about River? She's not back yet."

Mal didn't quite smirk, but it was a close thing. "Oh, I got a notion that since Jayne snuck off a while back, they're making their own entertainment. They can let themselves back in once they're done."

Simon couldn't quite disguise the look of faint disgust. "Oh."

Serenity's captain clapped him on the shoulder. "Now you know how I felt when I found out you were sexing little Kaylee here. Although I think the inclination to shoot you might finally be wearing off."

"I'm so glad."

"Not so little no more, anyway," the woman in question put in proudly, running her hands over her swollen stomach.

"And pregnant women need their sleep," Simon said, pulling himself together. "What with tomorrow being another big day."

"Think we're gonna end up rich?" Hank asked.

"I doubt it," Mal said. "Shouldn't think a place like this keeps that much cashey money lying around, but we'll see. Might be enough to swing an upgrade or two."

"Ooh, really?" Kaylee's eyes widened.

"Maybe."

"'Cause I got a whole list of stuff needs replacing."

"Kaylee, I said maybe."

"Can I at least give it to you?"

She might be waddling, her belly coming into a room long before she did, but she could still do the puppy dog eyes, and she was using them full force at Mal.

He sighed. "Okay. Give me the list. But I ain't promising anything."

"_Xie-xie_, captain!" she said happily.

"But I reckon the doc's right," Mal went on. "An early night ain't gonna do any of us harm." He put his hand in the centre of Freya's back, pressing her towards the stairs. "After you."

"You know I really shouldn't be letting you make me do anything, don't you?" Freya said as she headed up the steps in front of him. "After the meeting we've just been to."

"Mmn."

"Mal."

"Huh?" He'd been distracted by her backside. "What was that?"

"Stop that."

"What?"

"I'm not a sex object."

"So a man can't anticipate seeing his wife getting naked?"

"Only if a wife can anticipate the same of her husband."

"Oh, I think that can be arranged." They disappeared through the top hatch, Mal's voice adding as they turned the corner, "Last one up turns off the lights."


	22. Chapter 22

Election day dawned, as days planetside will, to a fanfare of birdsong and the sound of people complaining as they made themselves ready for whatever was likely to come their way during the next twenty-four hours or so.

Up early, the crew of Serenity had a comparatively leisurely breakfast before congregating in the cargo bay, the sun still low enough that it threw long shadows behind them.

"Now, you be good," Kaylee said to Bethie, pushing her hair back behind her ears.

"Yes, Momma."

"'Cause I'm leaving you in charge, just while we're gone."

"Yes, Momma."

"But that don't mean you can wander off and do whatever you want."

"No, Momma."

"We won't be long."

"We'll be good, Momma." Bethie beamed at her, her hands behind her back, her fingers all crossed and knotted together.

"Mmn." Kaylee looked up at Simon. "Maybe I should stay. 'Til everyone gets back."

He put his hand in the small of her back. "Sweetheart, the sooner we get this over with, the better. And Serenity will be locked up tight. No-one will be able to get in."

"I know that, but after yesterday …" Kaylee gave her daughter a look that could only be described as piercing, and Bethie managed to look apologetic. Simon had, after all, filled them in on what had happened, since Zoe and Hank were bound to notice the bruising on Ben's face. "Maybehaps we ought to take 'em all with us."

"Not happening," Mal said, walking down the stairs from the top catwalk. "If something goes wrong, we can't be having the kids to be thinking about rescuing too."

"Then I'll stay. Vote later."

"That ain't gonna work either. We need you on the end of the line while we relieve Jericho Wells of their hard-earned cash." He stepped down onto the deck. "'Sides, we might need all hands if things don't go well," he added.

River leaned on the railing outside her shuttle. "_Things_ are going to go fine," she said, an icy tone in her voice.

Mal looked up at her. "You keep saying that, albatross, but until we're done and back …"

She looked down her nose at him. "It will work."

"I'm sure it will. Just looking out for all contingencies."

"Not for mine."

"You talking back to your Captain?"

"Are you calling all of my careful and considerable calculations into question?"

"No," he admitted. "Not you I'm particularly worried about. It's other folk making a mess of things that distresses and concerns me."

She smiled suddenly, her face young and bright. "That's all right then."

"He's just winding you up," Freya said, passing her husband by and heading for the sunshine outside.

"I know." River ran lightly down the stairs to join her. "Fathers are allowed to do that to their daughters."

Freya laughed and pulled the young woman into a hug. "I suppose they do."

* * *

It was unusual for all of Serenity's crew to be out at once, and Kaylee kept glancing back towards the ship as they headed for the Election Booths.

"They'll be fine, _mei-mei_," Mal assured her.

"I know." She managed to smile for him. "Just my babies …"

"You think Frey ain't keeping an eye on 'em?" he asked, nodding towards his wife walking a short distance in front with Zoe and Hank. "If there's even a hint of trouble she'll be back to sort it out."

"And me," River added, sidling up to them both. "And Jayne. And Simon. And –"

"I get it," Kaylee laughed. "Must be my hormones."

"You give it another couple of weeks and you won't be able to blame everything on them no more," Mal pointed out.

Her chin raised. "Try me."

He chuckled.

It didn't take long to reach the booths, set up halfway between the docks and the centre of town. There was already a long queue of citizens waiting to cast their votes, and they joined the end.

"Any idea how long this is likely to take?" Kaylee asked in an aside to her sister-in-law.

River watched for a moment, then said, "Twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds. Roughly."

"Well, I ain't standing." With that the young mechanic opened out what everyone had taken to be a walking stick until it extended two arms at the top and three at the bottom.

"What the hell's that when it's at home?" Mal asked, one arm around Freya, the other hitched into his pocket.

"Well, I'm not planning on sitting on the sidewalk, so I brought this." With a final flip the top two extenders magically produced webbing.

Simon grinned. "Is this what you were working on in the engine room last night?"

Kaylee nodded, her sunniness back to full blast. "You know how fiddling calms me down." She ignored the snigger from Jayne and the swift elbow into his belly from his wife. "Seems it does the same for this little one too," she added, running one hand over her belly." She held up the contraption. "And now I get to sit wherever I want."

"Here, let me." Simon manoeuvred it under her, and she lowered her weight, gingerly at first, then with a wide grin as she felt the pressure ease on her back.

"Can I have one of those?" Hank asked.

"I'll see what I can do," she promised, even as Mal rolled his eyes.

Every so often the line would move forward, and Kaylee had to stand, with some assistance admittedly, then perch again at the new location.

"Wheels," they heard the young mechanic mutter. "Gonna put on wheels."

Finally they reached the front of the queue.

Mal straightened, letting go of Freya so his hands were free. "Okay, people," he murmured. "Let's stay sharp."

For the last time Kaylee was helped to her feet, and she folded up her portable seat, holding it like a shield as they walked through the entrance, Freya first.

Simon, following her, swallowed, even as he heard his sister in his mind saying, _Relax. I know what I'm doing._

"IDs ready, please," a bored-looking young man said from his seat at the table.

"Of course." Freya handed hers over, and everyone held their collective breath as the man slid it into the reader.

He glanced at the details on the screen, looking up just once to check the holoimage was accurate. "Booth seven," he said, unable to control the jaded sigh in his voice. "Full instructions are on the door. If you are unable to read them, they will be read to you."

Simon took a step forwards, holding out his own ID. "Here."

There was a minor tension as the Election Booth officer double-checked the entry, staring first at the screen then at the young man. Just as Jayne was starting to fidget, his hand slipping towards the small of his back, ready to blast their way out...

"Fine." The officer handed Simon's ID back. "Booth eight. Full instructions are on the door. If you are unable to read them, they will be read to you."

"Thanks." Simon hurried away down towards the booth indicated.

Jayne stepped forward, holding out his own ID.

The officer took it, pushed it home, read the information off the screen and once again barely glanced at the big man to confirm. "Booth nine. Full instruction on the door. If you are unable to read them, they –"

"You suggesting I can't read?" the ex-merc growled.

"No, I ... that wasn't ..." The Election Booth officer was flustered, dragging his fingers back as if burnt when Jayne grabbed the ID from him and stalked away.

River, behind him, sighed. "Don't mind him. He got out of bed the wrong side this morning." She passed her ID across, and giggled. "Mine."

The officer ran her details as quickly as he could, his cheeks burning as he considered this pale, waiflike woman in the arms of that mountain. "Booth ten. Full –"

"Yes, I got that." She wafted away, her feet seeming to float above the floor, despite the serviceable boots she was wearing.

Waiting outside booth seven, Freya shook her head. "Stop annoying the man," she said.

"Why? It's fun." River smiled sweetly and carried on her way.

Freya chuckled and went to vote, the door with its instructions closing with a click behind her, considering her surrogate daughter was a lot more like her surrogate father than was really healthy.

It was odd, and probably the crew would have had a good laugh about it if they'd thought to discuss it, but the manner in which they all voted said a lot about who they were.

River was very careful, having touched the minds of those listed, going through the candidates and matching them to the posts with clinical precision.

While not quite as pedantic, Freya did much the same, although she had kept her research to the Cortex information, only Reading them as a last resort.

Mal wasn't anywhere near as methodical. He scanned the brief resumé beside each name, and if they even hinted at any kind of independence he flicked the switch to choose, or in one case because the guy was wearing brown.

Kaylee, on the other hand, went for the names she liked, trying them out on her tongue, rolling them around her mouth before making her selection.

Zoe, like Freya, had watched the Cortex infologs, and did the best she could, knowing that while they weren't going to be staying on Jericho, the people as a whole deserved good representation, even if for the most part individually she wanted to kick them into the middle of next week.

Jayne chose randomly, seeing if he could complete his voting while holding his breath. He grinned as he pulled air into his lungs.

Simon would never know, and certainly didn't do it while his face became congested, but he voted the same way as Jayne.

Hank tossed a coin.

The one thing they all had in common, though, was the seven checks against Zoe's name. Only Zoe herself had voted for someone else. For Mercy.

Eventually they had all finished and congregated outside the exit.

"All done?" Mal asked, looking from one to the other. There were various nods, and comments of agreement. "Shiny." He looked at his first mate. "Zo, you've got to get to the Town Hall, make sure you're seen."

"Yes, sir."

He put his head slightly on one side. "Have to say, you don't look quite so bad as before," he commented.

"Thank you for the flattering words, sir."

"I mean since you let Simon take the swelling down."

She touched her face, her fingertips skirting the edge where the young doctor had drained the fluid. "At least I can see now."

"And that's a good thing."

"And I don't feel like people are staring anymore."

"Zoe, for that to happen you'd have to be wearing full-length sprigged muslin, your hair tucked up neatly in a bun, and your eyes downcast to the ground. And even then you'd still stand out in a crowd." He coughed, aware he'd paid her a compliment, no matter how backhanded. "Well, go on. Don't wanna be late."

She smiled broadly. "I'll tell Mercy you said hi." Giving Hank a peck on the cheek she strode away.

"Shall we?" Mal said to the others.

"Better," Jayne growled. "I'm still feeling like I wanna go back inside and beat the crap out of that feller for suggesting I couldn't read."

It was only Freya's firm foot on top of Hank's that stopped the potential bloodshed.

* * *

Zoe stood in the doorway to the hall, and looked around. It was full, mostly with people she hadn't seen before.

"Kinda makes you wanna get a big gun and finish the lot of 'em, don't it?"

She looked around to see Leo at her side. "Who are they all?" she asked.

"The other folks standing." He pointed to a tall, very thin man who looked like the first good breeze would carry him off. "He's going for local education officer. And that one by the window?" He poked his finger towards someone with greasy hair and a moustache. "Dog Catcher."

Zoe had to smile. "So what are you doing hanging around here?" she asked him.

"Oh, just like to see the fireworks." He grinned, the gaps in his teeth seeming wider than usual. "I reckon there's some folks here likely to come to blows before the day's out."

"And have you done your duty and voted?"

"Well, now, normally I leave it to the last minute, and they have to come around and bang on my door, escorting me all the way. But in this case … yeah, I voted. Voted for you, as it happens."

"Thanks."

"'Cause I know you ain't staying, not once the landlock's been lifted, but I think your heart's in the right place. And you showed everyone on this gorram planet what a real woman's like." He looked her up and down. "If I'd known there were people like you out in the Black, I'd never've settled for an ass-end place like Jericho."

"Maybe you should get out there and take another look."

He shook his head, "Nah. I'm too old for that kinda thing anymore. I'll leave it up to the striplings like Kaylee. 'Sides, give it a few more years and I'll own the freehold of my place outright. Then everyone'd better look out."

"Considering standing for office yourself?"

"Maybe. Just maybe." He laughed.

"Leo, I'd vote for you. Just to be polite." She looked around. "Where's Mercy?"

"Over in the far corner, with the others." He laughed. "Can't miss 'em. They're the only females here."

"Thanks, Leo." She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the affronted glares and muttered comments as she went. "Hey," she said, seeing Mercy sitting on one of the few chairs against the wall.

The young woman immediately got up. "Did you vote?"

"Of course."

Mercy sighed, relieved. "Good. It wouldn't be the first time a candidate forgot, and the authorities don't look kindly on that sort of thing."

"So I gather." Zoe looked around. "So where is he?"

"Who?"

"Dean."

Mercy blushed bright red, almost the same colour as the ribbon in her hair. "Oh, around," she managed to say.

"And did he take you all the way home?" Zoe teased.

"He … yes, he did. And he was a proper gentleman, too."

"So he didn't spend the night."

Mercy dropped her wide violet eyes to her hands. "Well, maybe he did."

"Mercy …"

"Nothing happened!" she insisted.

"But you wish it had?"

A smile crept across the young woman's face. "Oh, Zoe, it was so nice. We talked, for a long time. I never knew he … I mean, when we were in school he never seemed interested … and when we left, he …"

"Are you going to see him again?"

The smile turned into a grin. "I think I am." She sat down again, this time with Zoe next to her. "He was so sweet."

"And if you win, here, today. Is he going to stay sweet?"

To give her credit, even in her somewhat infatuated state, Mercy thought about it before answering. "I think so."

"And if he isn't? Or if this is just the start. What if he wants you to give it up? Will you?"

"No." She seemed surprised by the speed of her answer, but went on, with utmost honesty, "I might have. Before. Before all this, the elections, everything. If anyone had shown even the slightest interest in me, I would probably have walked away."

"But not now."

Mercy shook her head. "I've seen, first hand. Those men, Bea … I know what people are capable of, and it scares me, but I … there are things to do, and I'd like to do them."

Zoe shouldn't have been taken aback, but for a moment she was. Then she remembered Mercy was far more intelligent than she let on, and those pretty eyes hid a sharp mind. "You will, you know. I feel it."

The other woman coloured. "I haven't won yet."

"That's true."

"But if Dean wants to be by my side, then that's fine. If not, then he isn't the man for me anyway, is he?"

Zoe patted her on the arm. "Mercy, you're going to do fine."

If anything the blush deepened, and Mercy asked quickly, changing the subject, "Where are the others? Your captain, the rest of your crew." She looked around. "I can't see them anywhere."

"Oh, they're running some errands."

"But nothing's open. Nothing ever is on election day."

Zoe smiled. "I'm sure they'll make do."


	23. Chapter 23

As soon as the adults had gone, Bethie gathered her troops and put her plan into action. Hurrying up the stairs, as fast as Jesse could manage, anyway, they congregated in the kitchen, settling Cal in the observation area with one of his stuffed toys to suck.

"Now what?" Hope asked, running a hand through her soft blonde curls.

"Help me." Bethie grabbed one of the chairs, lifting it with difficulty and carrying it around the counter, her little tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth. Putting the chair down, she pushed it as close under the cupboards as she could. She turned to glare at the others. "Come on."

Ben looked at Ethan, who shrugged and grabbed his father's chair. His best friend followed, Hope picking up a third. Jesse helped by the simple expedient of taking hold of a chair and dragging it along the floor, producing a squealing sound that made everyone wince and Fiddler run from the room, his tail tucked under him.

"Why are we doing this again?" Ben asked.

"'Cause I want to 'pologise," Bethie said, taking his chair and placing it at the base of the pile. "For making your nose bleed."

"It wasn't that bad," Ben said, sniffing experimentally. "Momma gave me one of her candied fruits to make up for it." He still sounded a bit nasally from Simon having stuffed his nostrils with cotton wool to stem the flow, which reminded the rest of the children of the time they'd been on Lazarus and he'd pushed a flower bud up his nose. Simon had spent a long time trying to get it out again, and when asked why he'd done it, Ben just shrugged and said that it fit.

"Still need to." She took Ethan's and balanced it on top.

"Bethie …" Ethan wasn't at all sure about this. "Maybe we should get one of the ladders from the cargo bay."

"They're locked away," the girl said, putting Hope's chair higher up. "And this is better. We don't know how long everyone's going to be gone."

"But this isn't safe." He hitched his thumbs behind his little suspenders.

"Just help, will you?" she said, exasperation creeping into her voice.

He glared at her, but lifted Jesse's chair into place.

Eventually Bethie deemed it high enough, which was lucky because they were running out of seating. The child-made mountain creaked, and Ethan looked at it critically. "It won't hold your weight."

"Course it will."

"No it won't. It'll all come tumbling down and you'll fall and get all squished." He shook his head. "I don't think this is a good idea."

Bethie glared at him, then her eyes drifted across the others until they settled on Jesse. "Maybe …"

"No!" Ethan said firmly.

"It's not far," Bethie wheedled. "And we'll catch her."

Jesse looked up at her brother. "'Than?"

"She can have extra," Bethie added.

"No, look, I don't …" But Ethan's protestations were cut off as Jesse made up her own mind and began to climb.

The stack settled a little, and the others quickly grabbed hold of the lower chairs.

In his mind's eye Ethan could see his little sister slipping, falling, and his mother would have something to say if she got hurt, let alone what his father would yell. Still, she seemed to be managing.

Suddenly she was at the top, and by stretching she could open the cupboard, revealing Jayne's bottle of sour-mash whisky.

"Can you see it?" Bethie asked.

"'Es." Jesse nodded, and the tower of chairs groaned as Ethan held his breath. She reached inside, past the bottle, and when she leaned back again she had a tin in her hand, covered in pictures of dogs. She passed it carefully into Bethie's waiting hands.

"Momma thought Uncle Jayne wouldn't think to look in there," Bethie said, a wide grin on her face as she pried off the lid, showing them the contents. "Thought they'd be safe."

"Cookies," Jesse agreed, licking her lips.

The mini-criminal-mastermind quickly decanted most of the cookies onto a plate, leaving only one and half in the tin, betting that her mother wouldn't realise, or think too hard on it if she did. Handing it back up, Jesse slid it home and closed the cupboard door, climbing down with even more care than she'd used scaling the heights.

Ethan let out a sigh as she reached the floor, and stood with her little hands on her hips, grinning up at him.

Quickly dismantling the tower, they put the chairs back into their original place.

"Come on." Bethie led the way down to the common area, letting Ethan grab Cal by the back of his shirt and half walk, half drag him along. The little boy didn't mind, continuing to mouth at his toy dinosaur, rubbing it where another tooth was trying to come through.

Sitting in pride of place in the old yellow armchair, Bethie waited until the others settled, then put the plate down on the table.

"They're not going to be back yet, are they?" Ben asked, glancing towards the doorway.

Bethie unfocused for a moment. "No. They're waiting in line. So dig in." Leaning forward she snagged one of the cookies and started munching happily. She waved it at the others and said, somewhat indistinctly and spraying a few crumbs, "See? Isn't it better when you do what I tell you?"

Hope and Ben exchanged a look, and Ethan sighed. "Yes, Bethie," he said, picking up two cookies and handing one to Jesse. "Whatever you say."

* * *

When the adults returned after voting, and while Mal was supervising the loading of the mule, Kaylee hurried into the common area, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw the children all playing quietly. Hope was drawing, as always, while Ben and Ethan had a board game on the floor and were chasing counters around. Bethie was reading aloud, Caleb and Jesse next to her. Even Fiddler was lying tranquilly under the table, twitching in his sleep.

"Hello, Momma," Bethie said, looking up and smiling. "Did you have a nice time?"

"Has everything been okay here?" Kaylee asked, somewhat suspicious.

"Shiny, Momma." She lifted the book, and her mother wasn't surprised to find it was the one River had given to her about Blackbeard the pirate. "We've been good. Just like you told us."

Kaylee gazed at her daughter, at the innocent look on her face, and at the distinct lack of blood and broken bones. "Well, I suppose …"

"Kaylee!" Mal yelled from the cargo bay. "Where's the rutting sticky?"

Hurrying back to tell her captain it was exactly where it was supposed to be, Kaylee didn't see a smug smile cross her daughter's face. Nor did she ever find out what went on. Although she knew cookies were missing from the tin, she figured Jayne must have gone for a quick drink, and came on them by chance. And knowing the big man, he'd never be able to stop at just one. It never occurred to her that her daughter had inherited her father's talent for planning and carrying out cookie heists.

* * *

The mule trundled through the streets, barely earning a glance from the few people out and about. Freya, bunched in one of Mal's oldest jackets, looked masculine enough not to draw stares, at least if she stayed dropped down in the seat, while Hank and Jayne rode on the back. Mal was driving.

"But I want to come!" River had said, almost stamping her foot in exasperation.

"You're staying here," Mal responded firmly, one eye on his pilot as he checked they had everything they needed.

"I can help."

"River, you know why you can't. You did your bit. This is mine. Gotta let me have something to brag about later."

"It's not fair." She pouted.

He exhaled through his nose and turned to look at her fully. "Now look here, young lady. You stop this or …"

"Or what?"

"Well, you ain't too big to be put over my knee."

"Can't threaten me with that anymore," River said primly. "I am a married woman with a child."

"So how come you ain't acting like one?"

She stared at him for so long he thought she'd taken root, then she seemed to deflate a little. "Want to have fun," she said finally, if still a little petulantly.

"And you can have that. Helping your bro count his supplies in case one of us gets hurt. And making sure nobody tries to steal anything." He shook his head. "Place like this, anything that ain't nailed down can easily go for a walk."

She chuckled, stifling it quickly in case he thought he'd won, even though she knew he had. "I shall prepare the inevitable rescue," she said, turning on her heel and walking away, back towards the infirmary.

"You do that," he called. "And when you get bored with that, think on how you're gonna spend your share."

"I already know," she replied, her voice wafting back to him. "I'm going to buy my own ship and tell everyone else what to do."

He'd laughed. "Good luck with that."

"Think River'll get over not being allowed to come with us?" he now asked Freya.

"She understands," his wife said, leaning into him as they rounded a corner into a narrow side street. "At least you didn't try and get _me_ to stay behind."

"Hey, I kinda need all my extremities at the moment."

"In fact, if anything, you're the one who should've played back-up."

"How'd you figure that?"

"You've only just got over a major operation –"

"And I'm fine," he said gently. "Real shiny. Otherwise Simon'd have me tied down to the infirmary bed. And don't think he hasn't tried it before." He smiled to hear her suppress a chuckle. "I'm taking it easy, _ai ren_."

"Hmmn."

"Anyways, there's no time to be arguing this now." He braked, and the mule came to a halt. "Here we are."

Jayne jumped off the back and surveyed the area. They were parked behind a row of warehouses that most fortuitously had no windows overlooking their current position, nor could they be seen from the main street. "Good spot," he said approvingly, then turned his attention to the ground. "So where is it?"

Hank, also on his feet, began poking the dirt with the toe of his boot. "It has to be … just give me a …" He looked up and grinned. "Oh ye of little faith," he said, going down onto his heels and brushing the earth away.

In less than thirty seconds he'd uncovered a manhole cover, imprinted with _Jericho Wells Municipal Works_ in letters half an inch deep.

"You sure this is the one?" Jayne queried. "'Cause I'd hate to be you if we came up inside the Alliance compound."

"Positive."

Mal nodded. "Okay, get it hooked up."

The big man undid the cable from the winch still attached to the underside of the ATV and uncoiled it, using the hooks to wrap it around the handgrips. Mal put the mule into gear and drove the old vehicle forward, bumping slightly as it passed over the line, until the winch was directly above the cover. Jayne started the motor, watching as the cable was slowly wound back onto the spindle and there was no slack. Pausing it, Jayne glanced at Mal, who nodded again in confirmation.

Freya, standing so she could see the entrance to the street, looked back as the motor note changed, the mule taking the strain as the winch lifted. Kaylee had assured them it would be powerful enough, but for one, heart-stopping moment she had the mental image of the cover being stuck solid, and the guts of the old vehicle spilling out onto the ground.

Then there was a groan, like something metallic was giving up its last death rattle, and Jayne stopped the motor.

"I told you," Hank said in triumph. "You can find out just about anything on the Cortex. Jericho has an extensive drain system, and this'll bring us up right under the …" He reeled back as Mal manoeuvred the mule backwards, exposing a dark hole. "_Wuh duh muh_, what's that stink?"

"It's a sewer, Hank," Freya said, shrugging out of Mal's coat. "What did you expect it to smell of?"

"I know, but that's …" He coughed, waving his hand in front of his face.

"Time's wasting," Mal said, turning the engine on the mule off and reaching into the back, passing out the thin plastic coveralls, shaped pretty much like a one-piece babygrow with feet, that Kaylee had picked up for virtually nothing at Leo's. "Get yourselves dressed."

"Is it going to keep out the smell?" Hank wanted to know.

"I doubt it." Freya laughed softly. "I think we'll all be taking showers as soon as we get back, and the washing machines'll be doing overtime, but anything's better than nothing."

"Just so long as they don't break down," Mal said, stepping into his own set and pulling it up past his hips, slipping his arms into the sleeves. The outfits were done up with Velcro from crotch to neck, and as he pressed his closed he looked up at the others, equally attired.

Freya smiled and sat down on the edge of the hole, trying to remember to breathe through her mouth and ignore the way the coverall rode up her backside. "Nobody light a match or the whole place could go up."

Even Jayne was grimacing, but that might be because his coverall was in danger of splitting if he moved too fast. Only Mal was unconcerned, or had a greater control of his facial features. Grabbing the backpacks from the mule he handed them out, then took a com unit from his own. "Kaylee."

"_Cap'n?"_

"We're in place and heading down. I'll leave the com on so you can track us through the system."

"_Got you,"_ she said, her voice tinny through the small speaker. _"Good luck."_

"Thanks." Tucking the small unit inside the pack, he swung it onto his shoulders and smiled at Freya. "Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be. At least we'll all smell the same, although I'm not sure Ethan or Jesse will want to come near us for a few days." She glanced down the hole, her forehead wrinkling. "See you on the other side." She let herself drop.

"Your turn," Mal said to Hank.

The pilot approached the drain with trepidation. "Man, I want danger money," he muttered, holding his sleeve over his nose.

"It was your idea," Mal pointed out.

"Just 'cause I can read the Cortex, doesn't mean you have to go with what I said."

"Stop whining and get down there," Jayne said, pushing him slightly.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

Jayne looked at Mal. "You think Zoe might notice if I killed him now and stuffed his body down a convenient open drain?"

Mal appeared to consider. "I think maybe she might. Although I'm willing to try if you are."

"Okay, I'm going, I'm going," the pilot said, taking a deep breath of fresh air. "Well, here goes nothing," he added, as he too disappeared from sight.

* * *

Zoe was about as bored as a person could get. During the war there had been long periods of inactivity when she'd sat around, waiting for the inevitable flurry of violence and bloodshed that deafened her ears and hardened her heart, but she'd reached the point now where that might actually be preferable.

Mercy slid through two groups of men, all talking much louder than they needed, and sat back down, handing her one of the cups of coffee she'd gone to find.

"Thanks," Zoe said.

"Don't be too quick. You haven't tasted it yet."

"Mercy, considering what we've on occasion had in our cups, it can't be that bad."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

Zoe took a mouthful, swirled it around her teeth, and swallowed. "Not bad," she said, wondering if the enamel on her teeth was dissolving.

"Liar," Mercy contradicted mildly.

Her companion grinned. "Okay. But it isn't the worst I've had, even if it's coming close."

"You know, sometimes I hate this place, but at least you get decent food. And they don't try and price you out."

Zoe looked at her friend, something she felt she could call Mercy now. "If you hate it that much, why don't you leave?"

"Because as much as I do hate it on occasion, it's my home. And if I leave it'd be running away."

"And you're not like that, are you?" Zoe smiled. "Someone who runs."

"I hope not."

"Maybe that's my trouble," Zoe went on, sipping the coffee but her mind elsewhere. "Me and Mal, we've been running a long time."

"Have you?" Mercy half turned in her seat. "Only I don't see that. Maybe you did at first, after the war …" She blushed, remembering the things she'd heard about that conflict, and what she'd read about Zoe's military career. "But now you've got a husband, a son. A family. Some people would say that was the least like running away that you can get. Something to aspire to."

"And you'd like that too?"

Mercy dropped her eyes, but not before Zoe saw her glance around the room. "Maybe."

"Well, I ain't got a crystal ball, and I can't exactly predict the future –" _Not without River's help, anyway_, she added silently. "But I think maybe you've got a good chance. You just be you, and you never know."

The young woman looked up, her violet eyes bright. "You think?"

"I do."

Mercy smiled widely, not hearing Kaylee's voice coming through the tiny earwig hidden by Zoe's hair. _"They're heading down,"_ the young mechanic said.


	24. Chapter 24

They made good time through the sewers, following Freya who was carrying one of the activated emergency lanterns. The bluish-green glow gave them enough light so they didn't trip over anything, but luckily not enough so that they could see what they were walking in, for which they were grateful. Mostly the liquid running along the bottom of the drain only came up to their ankles, but in a couple of places it was lapping their knees.

"I'm gonna want an extra cut," Hank complained. "I think something's getting inside, and these pants were virtually new."

"You think we ain't all in the same boat?" Jayne countered. "River's never gonna let me near her ever again."

"Hey, maybe there is a good side to this after all."

Jayne growled, but reigned in his impulse to drown the pilot in whatever it was he was currently walking through. He knew Hank was talking because he was nervous, something that Zoe seemed to have come to terms with. Still, if he opened his mouth once more …

Bringing up the rear, Mal shook his head. In this light at least he couldn't see the vividly bright orangeness of their garb, although he still felt like he was a refugee from some Alliance chain gang. That had been the idea, too, to some degree. If anyone had seen them climbing down into the sewer their coveralls were the same type used by official Jericho Wells Municipal workmen. Hopefully no-one had, but it was another tick in the box of being careful.

Of course, if they were really being careful they wouldn't be down here at all. They'd all be waiting with Zoe for the results, instead of planning to knock over a bank. Still, the way Mal looked at it, it was Jericho's fault in the first place. If they hadn't landlocked his vessel, forced him to sit tight until after the elections, made him and his crew vote in said elections under threat of arrest … well, he wouldn't be walking through crud right now. He glanced down and shuddered slightly, stepping out of the way of something solid that was being dragged by the current. Even though he really didn't want to find out what it was, something about the movement fascinated him until it circled an eddy and drifted into the darkness.

"This is it," Freya said suddenly, coming to a stop.

Mal waded quickly past Hank and Jayne, looking up at the circular hatch. "You sure?"

"Positive." She pointed to a number stencilled on the underside. "No. 32."

He smiled. "Shiny." Glancing over his shoulder he added, "Hank, you're up. Only I hope this works, otherwise I'm going to have to burn it with the sticky, and apart from being untidy that means it's more likely we'll get found out."

Hank patted his arm. "No need to fret."

"I ain't fretting. Just want to get this job over and done."

"No worries." The pilot moved under the hatch. "These inspection portals were put in when the bank was built, converted from one of the original town houses," Hank explained. "But for this design to work properly, they have to have a numerical entry pad either side, and I'm betting they've never bothered to change the code." He blew on his fingertips, despite them being encased in orange plastic. Then, with a quick prayer to any deity that might happen to be listening, he punched in the sequence 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 0. There was a click, a pause, a second click. The lock disengaged.

"Hold it there," Freya ordered, moving forward to stand directly under the opening, holding something in her hand.

"You getting a signal?" Mal asked, dropping his voice to a whisper

Freya studied the bar meter on the tiny box, the same one River had used to record an empty corridor, and smiled. "Good and strong."

"How long?"

"Half a minute should do it. Just in case."

Mal nodded, silently counting under his breath. It seemed like more than thirty seconds, a lot more, but finally Freya was satisfied. She flicked a switch, and the tiny LED on the top changed from green to red as it went from receiving to transmitting.

Mal nodded. "Let's go, then." He climbed the first two steps of the ladder attached to the wall, pushing at the hatch. It opened easily, and he continued up. Freya passed him the lantern, and he stood up straight inside the antechamber to the vault.

Heavy bars filled the only entrance, a circular doorway cut through heavy concrete. The walls were blank, featureless, but opposite … there it was. The Sirius Mark 3 safe, made by Holt, Maruck and Watson of New Birmingham, Londinium, all five inch thick, titanium reinforced carbonised steel of it, a small blue light flickering high up on the door.

Mal stood still, hearing the others join him, just staring at the safe, his hands loose by his side. It was possible the damn thing was empty, that they were doing this for nothing, but he was betting that wasn't the case. It might not be much, but if it paid for the parts Kaylee had needed, maybe put a little into their own safe for a rainy day, then it was worth breaking his already stretched-thin moral code once more.

Jayne humphed. "Sticky ain't gonna work, not on this," he observed. "Although I do got me some good quality explosive I've been itching to try."

"Not yet," Mal said, then held up his hand to forestall the inevitable complaining. "I know you'd like to make a big noise, smoke, maybe a little flame, but let's see if the right way works first, _dong mah_?"

"Just saying," the big man growled.

"Hank, anytime you'd like to make me proud."

The pilot grinned. "Mal, I thought you'd never –"

_Guard._ Freya didn't speak, just dropped the word into each of their minds as she switched off the lantern and grabbed the backpacks before pressing herself against the wall by the bars.

Hank quickly pushed the inspection hatch closed, his fingers crossed that it would open again, then joined the others, trying to become one with the grey concrete.

A torch beam flickered around the room, making the shadows dance. It rested for a long moment on the vault door, and they held their collective breath. If the guard decided to come inside, to even peer into the corners … then they heard footsteps walking off, and the room became dark again.

"Now I'm really gonna need a new pair of pants," Hank muttered as the lantern light bloomed again.

Mal was at the bars, listening carefully. He glanced at Freya, who nodded. "Shiny," he said, then ordered, "Hank, do it."

"And for my final trick …" Hank pulled the small EMP gun Kaylee had been playing with, the reason all this started, from inside his backpack. "They tried to hide it," he said, conversationally. "Did their best to destroy all evidence of the article like it never existed. But once it's out there, it's always there. Hanging in the ether. Just waiting for someone like me to –"

"Get on with it," Jayne growled.

Hank glared at him. "Can't I have my two minutes of fame?"

"You're rapidly getting to the end of it," Mal said, crossing his arms and feeling the coverall tighten across his back.

"Anyway …" Hank drew the word out, pronouncing every syllable. "It was an accident, and they said it wasn't worth recalling all their product, because who would think to fire an EMP pulse at a safe?" He grinned. "Except me." He aimed, pulled the small trigger.

Nothing happened.

"That it?" Jayne asked, his forehead creasing, then his eyebrows raised in hope. "You mean I get to blow it anyway?"

"Just wait a minute," Hank requested, trying the EMP gun again.

"'Cause if I do it'll take but a few minutes to –"

"Oh, for heavens sake," Freya interrupted, walking up to the safe door. She glanced up at the blue light that had been flashing but was now dark, and span the circular metal handle. It seemed to freewheel, but there was the noise of bolts being withdrawn, and a low rumble vibrated the floor under their feet as the door swung free.

"See?" Hank said, grinning widely. "Told you. Doesn't even have the chance to ring an alarm, just disrupts the entire system." He wiped his hand across his forehead, then sniffed it and grimaced.

Freya pulled the door wider, and Mal stepped through carrying the emergency lantern. He stopped as if he'd hit an invisible wall.

"What?" Jayne asked, surging forwards. "What is it? Is it empty?"

"No … Not … empty."

The others crowded behind him, seeing the close-packed deposit boxes lining three walls, the locked mini-safes in the back, the central podium with half a dozen steel-reinforced fabric bags sitting right on top …

"Do you think …" Hank began, but couldn't finish.

"Not sure." Mal put the lantern down and unbuckled the straps on one of the bags. Unfolding the top, he looked inside.

"Well?" the pilot asked.

For answer Mal tipped it so they could see the jumble of coin and notes inside.

"_Cao_," Hank breathed as his jaw dropped.

"Gotta agree with you on that," Jayne said, licking his lips. "How much do you figure's in there?"

"Enough to keep us flyin' a while longer," Mal said, shaking out one of the waterproof sacks they'd brought with them.

_Taxes,_ they all heard, flavoured with River's unique taste. _Collected before the election for passing to the Alliance._ She seemed to laugh. _Perhaps the truth will stop your morals snapping quite so easily._

Hank and Jayne stared at each other in confusion, but Freya smiled slightly at Mal. He felt a blush burn up his chest, but it stopped before it reached his face. "Don't just be standing there," he said quickly. "Get the bags inside. We don't wanna be tempting fate by hanging around longer'n we need."

It was a matter of less than a minute to collect the loot, with Freya back down in the sewer to take the sacks as they lowered them to her.

"You sure you don't wanna have a look-see through the deposit boxes?" Jayne asked, wiping the floor with half a dozen clean rags of anything noxious they'd brought up on their feet. "Seeing as we're here."

Mal shook his head. "We got what we came for. More, I'll conjure. And I don't particularly feel like taking the little some of these people have."

"Ya mean like Mercy."

"Exactly. Taxes, I ain't got no problem with. Loose cash lying around, fine. But family heirlooms, keepsakes … no. Not happening."

"You know, you really ain't got the criminal mentality," Jayne said, stepping out of the safe and wiping the rim.

"I think I might just take that as a compliment."

"Prob'ly best." The big man stood straight. "So you're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"O-kay." He pushed the door closed and span the lock. The bolts re-engaged, and the tiny blue light began flashing again.

"See?" Hank said, sitting with his feet in the hole. "It's just like they found out. The system resets itself like the pulse never happened."

"All right, all right," Mal said, sighing. "An extra quarter percent. Just this time."

Hank grinned. "And on that effusively grateful note …" He held his nose and dropped down.

Jayne went next, handing Mal the rags for the final polish. "You're gonna spoil him," he grumbled as he disappeared.

Mal took a few moments to look around, checking Jayne had cleaned up well after them, but every trace had been wiped clean. Smiling slightly, he glanced once more at the closed vault door, then, giving where he'd been standing one last swipe, he dropped back down the inspection hatch, pulling it closed after him. There was a whirr, and it locked.

In the guard's office there was a tiny break in the signal going to the close circuit screen, one that appeared to be nothing more than a fragment of static, perhaps a breeze caught in the works, which might have been noticed if the guard hadn't at that moment been answering a call of nature. As it was, when he returned there was nothing out of order, and he settled down with his thermos of cocoa and a well-thumbed comic book.

* * *

Kaylee was waiting outside Serenity, but before they were even close she was backing away, her face screwed up, a hand clamped over her mouth and nose. "Phew!" she exclaimed. "You stop right there! You … that …"

"Just imagine it from our side," Mal said, sniffing at his shirt and finally letting his reaction to the stink show on his face as he pulled the ATV to a halt.

"I thought those coveralls would do a better job than that," Kaylee said indistinctly.

"Jericho Wells seems to produce something that's a whole lot more corrosive than anticipated." Mal climbed down. "But then, that's the way they do things here." He chuckled, even as Hank and Jayne rolled their eyes.

"I set up a hose so you could clean the mule, but I'm thinking maybe I should use it on you too," the young mechanic said. "'Cause I think I'm gonna be making an executive decision and not letting you on board until you're clean."

"Are you mutinying?"

"You bet."

Jayne jumped from the mule. "Fine by me," he said. "Won't be the first time I've been hosed down 'fore someone'd let me on a ship."

Mal closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sure there's a good story behind that, but for now I really don't wanna hear it." He climbed to the ground. "'Kay, little Kaylee. Do your worst."

* * *

Some hours and several careful showers later, the crew of Serenity rolled up to the Town Hall to give Zoe moral support for the evening. This time River had insisted on attending, stating, quite plainly, that she was now legal, at least for the time being, and she wasn't intending on missing any fisticuffs.

Mal only argued for the sake of it, giving in more or less gracefully, even when the young woman kissed him on the cheek then told him he'd missed a spot.

Once inside the hall, if they were a little more ebullient and happy than most of the other people standing it around, it was put down to the fact that they were off-worlders, and likely to stay that way. In fact, for the most part, they were totally ignored.

For the most part.

Leo had obviously been waiting for them to arrive, because he waved as soon as they stepped in the door and sidled through the crowds. However, he paused when he got close, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Mal was instantly on the defensive, even more so when the older man pulled him to one side.

"You might wanna take another shower," Leo said, dipping his head so no-one could hear.

"What?"

"There's a particular aroma that's hard to miss. I call it _eau de Jericho_ myself. It comes from wandering around the sewers."

"No idea what you're talking about."

"I've had to go down 'em a couple of times myself. When something's blocked and they can't find another idiot to do it. Made 'em pay through the nose, too, but that's beside the point. Thing is, once you've smelled it, you ain't likely to forget."

Mal looked steadily at the older man. "Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about. But if I did, I'd kinda like to know … were you planning on making trouble?"

Leo's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "I thought you had me figured by now. I ain't one of these fellers around here. They might sell their mother for a leg up, but it ain't in my nature."

Mal relaxed a micron. "That's good to know."

"I just don't want little Miss Kaylee getting into any trouble. Not in her condition. Hell, not in any condition whatsoever."

"No trouble, Leo."

"You can assure me of that? I ain't gonna turn on the Cortex and find her face plastered all over it with a sum of money written big underneath?"

"Not today."

Leo studied him, for a long time, and was apparently satisfied. "Well, guess that's the most I can ask for. Eddie's girl seems to have a good man for a captain."

"I try, Leo."

"And I know you can't promise something you can't see, but as long as she's okay today …"

"She is."

"Good." Leo nodded. "And I reckon I don't really want to know what you've been up to, although there are a couple of ideas going around my head, at least one of which would make me smile from now until Sunday."

"You just remember that. In a few hours."

Leo grinned. "Then that's good enough." He slapped Mal on the back and turned to look at the ladies. "Well, here's a young'un I ain't met before. Who's gonna do the introductions?"

River smiled and stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "River Cobb, Mr Gunn."

Leo shook. "Cobb, eh? You any relation to this lummox?"

Jayne bridled but only said, "This here's my wife."

"Wife?" Leo shook his head. "Looks like I'm too late again."

River laughed, and looped her arm through his. "You're a bad man, Mr Gunn."

"Leo, please. And I do try."

Mal dropped back to stand next to Freya. "Well?" he whispered.

"He won't tell," she assured him, then sniffed. "And he's right, there is still a slight perfume hanging around us."

"I told you we should have showered together."

"Then we really wouldn't have been here on time."


	25. Chapter 25

The clock struck 11.00 pm, and the polling booths across Jericho Wells shut down. Automatically all the results were fed into the main computer in the Election Offices, coincidentally the same one that River had accessed. This was the final entry, arranged so that while the rest of the planet had finished voting some time since, Jericho Wells as the major city was the collation point.

"Come on, people," Mal murmured, the boredom of the last few hours being replaced by tension. "It's time we got gone."

"What if the rest of River's little plan doesn't work?" Hank wanted to know, keeping his own voice as low as possible.

"I don't believe we want to be asking that question."

"Wait," Freya said, watching Zoe amongst the throng of people clustered in front of the stage, Mercy next to her. "I want to see who wins."

Mal raised his eyebrows at her. "You sure, _xin gan_?"

"Zoe's not going anywhere until then, you know that. Just a few more minutes."

He smiled, slid his arm around her waist, and kissed her cheek, not caring a jot for the looks he was getting for this very public display of affection.

Thomas Cromwell was conferring with his colleagues, each having to agree the results on the handheld terminal before they could be announced. In truth no-one had ever disagreed, not in the whole history of Jericho Wells. It was all checked by the computer first. Of course it would be right.

He nodded, then stepped up to the microphone, adjusting his jacket across his shoulders and clearing his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen ..." He smiled into the camera, somewhat oddly, as if his face wasn't quite used to it. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that we have the results of the Jericho elections." There was a dull smattering of applause before he went on, "And I am also pleased to announce yet another year of 100 percent attendance." He coughed again, this time his gaze falling on Mal and his crew.

"Is he giving me the eye?" the captain of Serenity asked.

"Probably," Freya agreed. "Now shush."

Cromwell was speaking again. "I will read the results in order of planetary importance, and if the winning candidates would please join me on the platform. If we're all ready?" He paused, milking the moment. "Then I will begin. First, in my official capacity as Election Officer, I take great pleasure in announcing the name of the new Lower Parliamentary representative for Jericho. I hereby state and declare that the elected candidate is Mr Patrick Donmar!"

This time the applause was longer, louder, as a portly, middle-aged gentleman wearing an expensive suit climbed the steps, the light in the hall glinting off both his teeth and his gold watch chain just as brightly.

"Well, I didn't vote for him," Hank said. "Did you?"

"Nope," Jayne muttered. "Was he on the list?"

River stirred next to him, her hands wrapped around his bicep. "None of us did. Nor many others. It didn't matter."

"River?" Mal glanced at her. "Wanna explain that statement?"

"This decision was made months ago," she said quietly. "Behind closed doors."

"You mean it was fixed, albatross?" Mal's voice hardened a little.

"I'm not the only one who can adjust the computer. Although Mr Cromwell doesn't know. He's not culpable." She smiled. "In fact, I think it would probably shock him into insensibility to find out."

"Stickler for the rules, ain't he?" Jayne said.

"'_A man that lives by the rules of others cannot be considered responsible for the actions of others'_," River intoned. "Dominic Strachan, writing in _The Way of Life_, first published eighty-seven years ago by ..." Her voice faded as the others stared at her. "Yes," she finally said.

"Then who is culpable, _mei-mei_?" Mal wanted to know.

"Much higher. Off-world." She shrugged. "I did consider making it a fair fight when I found the details during my ... dancing, but that would have brought down the attention of the Alliance."

"Didn't want that, I agree. But it ain't fair." His face had set in a stubborn expression.

"As you've often said to me, life isn't."

"That ain't the point." He stopped himself. "Well, no, maybe it is. But what I was meaning is that, no matter what we think of the reasons, elections should be free. One man, one vote, and the man with the most votes wins."

"Man, Mal?" Freya teased.

"Man, woman, dog, pet flea for all I care. But it's the principle."

"I think in this case we're going to have to let it slide." She leaned against him, letting her considerable strength warm him. "This time, anyway. Next time we have to have someone stand for Parliament, you can holler from the rooftops."

His eyes softened as he looked at her. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Cromwell had announced the next two winners while they'd been talking, and now he droned on for another ten minutes before getting to the one important announcement, at least as far as they were concerned.

"Next we have the local planetary official for women's rights." There was no fanfare, no drumroll, although perhaps there should have been. "I hereby state and declare that the elected candidate is Miss Mercy Fischer."

Mal started to clap, Freya only a moment behind him. Hank joined in, as did River and the others. It spread like ripples from a stone thrown into the centre of a pond, until everyone was applauding.

Mercy, for her part, looked shocked, and it was only Zoe whispering in her ear that made her take a breath. She pushed the new official for Women's Rights gently towards the stage

"At least this is right," Mal said over his shoulder, not noticing the slightly guilty look crossing River's face.

Zoe made her way through the crowd to his side. "Time to go, sir?"

"Not going to congratulate Mercy?"

"I already have." She glanced back towards the stage, where a certain young woman was still looking stunned, and a certain young man was standing beneath her, such a wide smile on his face it was a wonder his head didn't split in half.

Mal's own lips curved. "Sorry you didn't win."

"I'm not." She looked into his eyes. "Honestly."

He didn't call her on it. "Then yeah. Time to go."

"What about the deposit?" Hank wanted to know, despite the haul sitting tidily in the smuggling nook.

"Got it here," Zoe said, patting her pocket. "For some reason Mr Cromwell was more than happy to hand it over straight away."

"Probably thought you might want to take it out of his hide," Freya suggested. "Or buy him dinner."

Zoe shuddered slightly.

The crew made their way outside, enjoying the cool night air as a change from the fuggy atmosphere inside, walking in pairs or small groups towards the docks.

"So what're you gonna buy with your share?" Mal asked, his arm around Freya's shoulders.

"Not sure. I need some more soap. And some incense sticks."

His eyes narrowed. "Not those ones't smell like Jayne's old bunk."

"No. I was thinking of trying the ones that are perfumed like a bordello."

"That's okay, then." He chuckled. "Guess I should be used to it by now, but I ain't. I mean, not that I mind. Seeing you sitting there on that rug, all naked and meditating."

"Hmmn."

"What?"

"You put naked before meditating."

"Frey, honey, I'm a man. A'course I do."

"I suppose it's what I should expect." She sighed theatrically. "A husband who doesn't understand me."

"Oh, I understand you all too well. And I know you ain't likely to be buying yourself much in the way of frippery from our ill-gotten gains."

"That's not true."

"No? So you're telling me you ain't gonna be slipping money back into the pot to keep Serenity flying, like you've always done."

"She's our home," Freya said, her chin coming up defiantly.

"I know." He paused, and leaned down enough to brush his lips across hers. "I know, _xin gan._" He started walking again. "But you're to buy yourself something nice. Maybe something to wear."

"All see-through and sexy?"

He stared into the darkness. "Maybe."

She poked him gently. "You're seeing it, aren't you? In your mind's eye."

"In my mind's eye, ear, nose and all places a lot further south." Then he stopped still, his hand on his chest.

"Mal?" Freya was immediately concerned, her own fingers hovering over the scar. "What is it? Is it your heart? Do you want me to get Simon?"

He had to smile. "Not 'less he's got a doggy-bag."

"What?"

The smile grew at the confusion in her eyes. "My stomach's rumbling. Just realised I ain't had anything since breakfast."

Her face cleared, then she thumped him on the pad of his arm. "That's for making it into a joke." She thumped him again, and he grimaced owlishly. "And that's for making me worried. I thought you were in pain or something."

"Or something."

She glared, then turned on her heel and strode off.

"You upsetting your wife again, sir?" Zoe asked, joining him.

"Seems like maybe I am."

"Think you'd better apologise?"

He flashed her a grin. "I think maybe you're right." Breaking into a slight run, he soon caught up with Freya, and tried to put his arm around her, but she shook him off. It didn't stop him, and eventually, as they neared the Firefly, she let him pull her closer.

"Good to be home," Zoe murmured, then felt an arm slip around her own waist.

Hank nodded sagely. "That it is," he said, before feeling himself being pushed to one side as Kaylee hurried up the ramp.

"'Scuse me," she said, moving as fast as her bulk would allow. "Pregnant lady needing to pee."

* * *

At two minutes to midnight the computer at the Election offices sent a low yield, high speed packet of information to somewhere in the docks, then promptly forgot it had done so.

At one minute to midnight a specific set of adjusted programme routines began, ran, and stopped, any trace of them erased as if they'd never been.

At one second to midnight the main town computer dialled up and logged onto the Cortex.

At one second past midnight all the new information was exchanged and updated, and coincidentally all landlocks lifted.

At two seconds past a small vessel lifted off from the surface of Jericho Wells, breaking atmo and vanishing in a flare of light into the 'verse.

Out in the black, on Serenity, the crew sat around the large wooden table and enjoyed a very late meal of real steak, with mashed potatoes and steamed greens, accompanied by a whole pitcher full of gravy, and everyone said it was the best dinner Simon had ever cooked. He smiled, blushed a little, and said the secret was that the meat had roasted for a long while, and he'd used one of the recipes Mrs Boden had supplied. Even Jayne was complimentary, and everyone ate until they could eat no more.

Mal surreptitiously undid the top button on his pants and held up his glass of Kaylee's finest interengine fermentation product. "A toast," he said. "To success."

River studied her glass carefully, watching the light refracting through the alcohol and calculating the possibility of being able to drink it without actually physically bursting. "Win, lose. Yes, no. Off, on. One, zero."

They all looked at her, but it was Mal who asked, "River, you mind putting that into English for me?"

"Captain dummy talk?"

"If you don't mind."

She smiled at him. "The law of averages states that for every time a job goes wrong, one has to go right. This was the one."

"Just the one, albatross?"

"We survived. They even out."

Jayne chuckled. "Well, seems to me we must've won – Mal didn't get shot."

"I don't get shot every time!" Mal protested.

"The law of probabilities versus the law of diminishing returns suggests ..." River saw the look on Mal's face, and laughed. "It's time for bed."

Mal grinned. "Yeah. I think that's as good a toast as I can conjure." He lifted his cup again. "To bed."

His crew joined him, each exchanging warm glances with their loved one.

* * *

Zoe sat brushing her hair at the mirror, her eyes fixed on her reflection even as the repetitive motion soothed her. After a minute or two, she took the print-out from the dressing table drawer, smoothing it flat. It was a list of candidates for the position of women's rights campaigner, with their respective totals for the ballot. Paulette Adams, Sarah Cordell, Mercy Fischer, Bea Jarvis ... and Zoe Mills. It was still there, her name, with the number of votes received.

"You wanted to stay?" Hank asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt but needing to know.

"No."

But he could hear something in her voice. "You sure?"

She looked up, seeing him reflected in the mirror. "I would have done a good job. Those women on Jericho ... they need someone strong to speak for them, change the way things are."

He kneeled down next to her, reaching up to ease her chin around so he could look directly into her eyes. "If you'd wanted to stay, you only needed to say. I know Mal wouldn't've like it, but –"

"I didn't want to." She watched his face relax. "This is my home, my place in the 'verse. But I wish ..."

He took her hand, holding it tight. "You did good, Zoe. You showed Mercy how to speak up, how to not let any man walk over her, and how to show those _bun tyen-shung duh ee-dway-ro_ that any woman is as good as they are."

She glanced at the flimsy that River had printed from the information sent before the results changed. "She didn't win."

"She doesn't know that you did."

"It's just ..." She stopped, not sure she could put it into words.

He stood up, tugging at her hand until she joined him. "Come on." He led her to the bed and made her sit, joining her on the blankets. "Zoe, my beautiful beloved, I'll tell you something. One day we'll come back here, to Jericho Wells, and we'll land, take in the sights, maybe even take the shuttle and head out to the sea, go for a swim."

"You think Mal's gonna let you do that?"

He ignored her interruption. "And while we're doing that, we'll check the Cortex, see who's Mayor, or maybe who the planetary representative is to the Alliance. And I'll lay odds of a hundred to one – if I bet on anything anymore, anyway – that you'll find the name _Mercy Fischer_ up there."

Her lips curved. "You think?"

"I do. In fact, I'll put it in my diary, make sure we head back in around, oh, maybe twenty years or so."

"You keep a diary?"

"Well, no. But I'll start. Today."

She looked into his honest grey eyes. "You're an idiot, Hank Mills."

"But an idiot that loves you."

"Then I don't think I can do better than that." She leaned forward and kissed him, their lips melting together, her hands in his untidy brown hair.

When they finally parted, each a little flushed, Hank asked, "Hey, you got any of those candied fruits left?"

"I might. Why?"

"There's a couple of other things I'd like to try ..." He grinned wickedly at her.

"Don't you ever grow up?"

"Is that an order? Because I don't mind if you don't." He pushed her back onto the bed, her thick curls splaying out over the pillow.

She laughed. "Oh, I don't mind. And the box of fruits is in the bottom drawer."

He grinned even wider and scrambled off the bed, ready and willing to do anything for his Zoe that would keep her happy like this.

* * *

At 7.55 am Jericho time, the day after the elections, the manager of the bank input his security code and the door to the walk-in Sirius Mark 3 safe swung silently open. Stepping inside the vault he staggered to a halt, staring. He walked around the unit, waving his hand through the air, as if somehow they'd just been made invisible and he'd be able to feel their steel reinforced canvas, but of the several bags of Alliance tax cash that should have been sitting there ... nothing.

The local Alliance Commander looked. He ran his steely eye over all of the surveillance footage from the security cameras, but there was nothing there. Just empty corridors. And no sign of anything suspicious elsewhere, either. There was a faint scent of something in air, an odour he couldn't quite identify, but he put that down to the manager standing next to him, rubbing his hands together nervously.

The Commander and his men called the local Port Control, asked if there had been any unusual activity on the ground, any ships that had been in the docks that no-one knew. Port Control said there had, that there had been ... no, wait. The computer said nothing had landed, not in more than a week. And if the computer said so, it had to be true.

They talked to the Election office, and Thomas Cromwell, otherwise an upstanding member of Wellsian society, swore there had been a woman who ... except there was no record of her ever standing. Not for any of the positions, not even the campaigner for women's rights. Mercy Fischer had won by a landslide, according to the computer. And if the computer said so, it had to be true. Besides, Cromwell announced he had decided to retire, that all this excitement was no good for his health, and he was going to buy a little house by the sea and raise geraniums. The Commander looked at him askance, but said nothing.

They even dropped in on Leo Gunn, out at his scrapyard, and he said to their faces that he'd not seen no-one, let alone anyone as'd come to him and asked for anything. Why, did the computer say there had?

They'd looked at each other, then at Gunn, standing in the faint blue haze from the cigar he was smoking, and sighed. Whoever did it must have parked out in the wilds, walked in, and spirited the money into the ether. If there had ever been any money there to begin with. The Commander walked away, muttering, and determined to look into the bank manager's background, see if he'd been buying things lately he shouldn't.

Leo Gunn blew a perfect smoke ring, and smiled, mainly because it appeared he was now the legal and outright owner of the land his scrapyard sat on, and there was a sizeable chunk of change in his bank account, which had, of course, always been there.

No-one ever found out what had happened, and in an attempt to keep the integrity of the First National and stop any possible runs on it, the hypothetical robbery was kept secret. A rumour surfaced every now and then about people living it high on the hog, coming into town and buying all manner of inappropriate goods, but there was never anything to substantiate them. And Mercy never heard one of them. She was too busy working to make sure people kept up her election promises, while also maintaining a passionate and satisfying relationship with a certain waiter.

And if no-one thought to check the Cortex records, watch the tapes of a certain dark-skinned Amazon stating that Jericho Wells needed to change, had to become better than it was, and didn't put two and two together … well, that was nobody's problem. After all, she hadn't won.


End file.
